A Spoonful Of Grace
by Words Fly
Summary: This is a story of second chances, as told by Emma Motley and Sam Winchester. Emma Motley was a hunter that said goodbye and left the world for good, until she was pulled back topside. Sam Winchester was a hunter that saved the world once, until the next Apocalypse rolled into town. This is the story of the second Apocalypse, or as Gabriel called it, Apocalpyse: The Sequel.
1. Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** This story was posted before, so it might seem familiar to some readers. It had 40 chapters when it was taken down, and I took it down so that I could do a mass edit of the entire story. If you did read the story before, you'll see a lot of familiar scenes and dialogue but there are many changes as well. So please read carefully. If you are a new reader, ignore all of this and happy reading!

 **Words Fly:** Since this is an edited story, I will be posting updates as I finish editing each chapter. This story is mostly told through Emma Motley (OC) and Sam Winchester, so there are regular POV switches. I also don't like giving things away, but I will list the main pairings just in case anyone hates them and would rather not read: Emma (OC)/Michael, Sam/Gabriel, and Dean/Cas.

This chapter mentions scenes from the end of Season 5, but the story goes completely AU after Season 5. For anyone who likes knowing what the OC looks like, Emma's face claim is Kat Dennings.

 **Summary:** Emma meets legends and gets turned into a chew toy. Sam is slightly awkward and laughs at inappropriate moments.

 **Edited Post Date:** 24 June 2019

 **Word Count:** 5500

 _When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you  
With the hounds of hell comin' after you  
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name  
_ _ **Blood On My Name by The Brothers Bright**_

 **•X•**

 **CHAPTER ONE  
** **EMMA MOTLEY'S GUIDE TO BADDIES & EXORCISM 101**

 **19 MARCH 2010**

 **EMMA**

"Shit, sorry!" Emma Motley tried to get her right foot back under her and started tilting farther to the side. She was prepared for the fall coming her way when a strong hand clamped down on her elbow, and wide dark eyes blinked up at her rescuer as she was set to rights.

"You okay?" The deep voice was warm and not in a hurry, like most people that knocked into her. Emma flashed her best smile at the concerned tone and craned her head back to get a good look at the guy. The very nice-looking guy, she realized. Shaggy brown hair that looked soft to the touch, gorgeous hazel eyes that were made up of all kinds of pretty colors, legs that went for miles and had to put him at six-four, and stacked. They didn't make 'em like this every day.

"Getting better all the time." A look of recognition dawned in his eyes at her husky tone, and she smiled again as the barest hint of a blush touched on those sculpted cheekbones. Whoa, she seriously needed to get laid if she was waxing poetic about _cheekbones_.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it, sugar. I'm the one with two left feet. Best accident I've had all week."

After a quick pat just to see if his chest really was as firm as it looked, Emma sauntered off. She walked right out of the overly packed bar, across the dark parking lot to the RV camp next door, and right into her big beautiful home on wheels. She'd known hunters that lived from motel to motel, ones who lived in RVs, and a few who had converted vans into something more livable in the long run. She respected them, she really did, but she had gone a different route. Not long after she started hunting on her own, she bought an extremely cheap school bus and fixed it up so that she could live a little comfortably while killing boogey monsters. The outside had been painted a dark green because the bright yellow had hurt her eyes, and she had gutted the inside. Now, as she walked down it, she could smile at her little accomplishment. At the two couches, all of the counter space, a metal sink, tiny stove, refrigerator, pantry, bathroom with a standing space for a shower, shelves behind a door, and her bed was at the back of the bus. Which was where she dropped down and got comfy after flipping a lamp on that was bolted above the bed.

With her soft mattress and big fluffy blanket cushioning her ass, she reclined back against the surprisingly soft mountain of throw pillows and took a look around at all of the pretty pictures pinned up on the opposite wall. By pretty, she meant gruesome. Gruesome didn't always mean difficult though. All in all, it was a pretty simple salt and burn. There was a pissed off spirit terrorizing the local haunted house, and Emma knew right where the ugly bitch was buried. The only problem? A town festival was being held in the street right in front of the cemetery. It was about how her luck went these days. (What was that saying her mother used to mutter whenever something went wrong? _If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all._ ) The lovely townspeople should be cleared out before sunrise, but that wasn't enough time to dig up a body and burn it before the townsfolk started their day.

The only thing left to do was chill until the following night, which meant she could actually catch a little shut-eye if she wanted. Alternatively, she could get in some recreational reading. She hadn't really had time to read just for the hell of it lately, and time was of the essence.

 **THE NEXT NIGHT**

"What the hell is this?!" Emma froze, with her shovel still raised over her shoulder, and pasted on a cheery smile. She was standing in a dug out grave, holding a shovel, and she'd been caught just as she reached the coffin. Just how the hell was she going to bullshit her way out of this one?

"It's you!" a different voice yelled. Huh, so she'd been caught by two guys.

"Well, hey there, sugar! What brings you here at this time of night?" The tall stranger with poetic cheekbones from the bar bent down and slowly stood up with her container of salt in his hand.

"Same thing as you, I guess." He had a small sheepish smile on his face that made Emma's insides quiver, and for once, in a good way. Toe curling good, even. She so needed to get laid. (It was too bad those days were over.)

"Wait, you're telling me this little girl is a hunter? And how do you know her?" Dark eyes moved from the tall one to the shorter, but no less prettier, man beside him.

"This is the girl I told you about, from the bar last night," the handsome stranger explained.

"The one you stepped on?" Emma was focusing on the task at hand, but she could hear the humor in the other man's voice.

"Yes, Dean, that one." That tone was full of exasperation, but it was a little fond too.

"And you're really a hunter?" the short one, Dean, asked.

"No, I got into necrophilia about two years ago. It's a serious addiction. I'd try therapy, but I don't think I could handle prison." She'd kept digging while the two guys talked, and she'd cleared the sides of the coffin.

"She's joking, right?" Dean asked in a too-loud whisper.

"Yes, she's joking." The taller one paused and then looked down at her as she worked on popping the coffin open. "Right?"

"You think necrophilia is funny? You guys are sick." Emma tossed the shovel out of the deep hole and wiped her hands on her dirty shorts. "Toss down the salt, would you?"

"Need any help there, Tinkerbelle?" Oh yeah, Dean was full of jokes.

"Just tell me how hot my ass looks in the firelight." She could hear loud laughter over the sound of burning bones, and she twisted around to pop her aching spine. She moved up onto her tiptoes to grip the edge of the hole she was in so she could crawl her ass out of the grave, and two strong hands gripped each of hers. She pretty much floated out of the grave and attempted to knock off the clumps of dirt clinging to her clothes after she was standing on solid ground again.

"What kind of hunter wears shorts and flip-flops?" Dean asked. The shorts were dark green, loose, and stopped right above a pair of bruised looking knees. _(Fucking werewolves, man.)_ The flip-flops were black and looking a little worse for wear. Probably not the best attire to wear in March, but who cared? It was unseasonably warm in the south and if she was going to be digging up graves, she was damn well going to be comfy.

"One that likes being comfortable. Makes running a hell of a lot easier too. I can just kick them off and go. So, now that I've done your job for you, what are you going to do?" she asked as she looked between the two. They really were abnormally tall; her neck was starting to get a crick in it just from having a conversation with them, and she took a moment to curse her short height as they exchanged a quick glance.

"Grab some food and head back to the motel, I guess," Dean said and shrugged.

"Would you like to come with us, uh… sorry," the taller guy trailed off and flashed a smile down at her.

"Shit, I never formally introduced myself, huh? Emma Motley, at your service." A slim and dirt-covered hand hovered in front of the taller of the two as she waited, and a moment later a large hand wrapped around hers and gave it a good shake.

"Sam Winchester." The dusty lightbulb in her head made a quiet _ping!_ as she looked between the two. Huh, it must be her lucky night. She burned the bones before the ghost could come after her ass, and she was meeting _legends_.

"Holy shit! The Winchesters? I was starting to think you two were a myth, but Bobby never did seem like the lying type." Emma was looking back and forth between the two brothers, but they looked normal enough to her. They were prettier than most hunters though.

"You know about us?" Sam asked first.

"You know Bobby?" Dean asked immediately afterwards. Emma slowly looked between the two again and nodded her head in the affirmative.

"Yeah, Bobby's the one that eased me into the life. I still call him when I can, but I haven't seen him since I started out on my own." Emma smiled a little as she thought of the older hunter. She owed Bobby Singer more than she could ever repay; she needed to give him a call, once she was out of town.

"Why don't we fix this back up and talk about it later?" Sam asked and looked around. Right. The last thing they needed was for someone to walk up and ask why a grave had just been dug up.

"Sounds good to me. That cool with you, Deano?"

"Sure, Tinkerbelle."

An hour or so later, Emma found herself seated at a small table in a small motel room with two massively stacked hunters. Well, maybe massively stacked was pushing it a bit. She had to look at it objectively though. Little Emma was only a solid five feet in her bare feet, and the short one was six-one. Yeah, the short one. Emma had some muscle tone, buried under some placating curves, but these dudes just looked strong and like they could kick some serious ass. She looked like a pot-smoking college freshman, on a good day. Or so she'd been told.

Speaking of the strong-looking cavemen… Her bacon burger was delicious, but it was a little hard to focus on the greasy goodness with two dudes staring at her like she was munching on baby toes. Emma gingerly put the burger back into her fast food bag, sucked up a big gulp of soda, and crossed her arms under her chest.

"Alright, what would you like to know?" The two brothers exchanged a look, and she waited to see which one would kick-start the inquisition.

"Anything that you feel comfortable telling us," Sam said with an earnest smile. Geeze, the guy was like a big puppy. And Emma really wouldn't mind giving him a tummy rub. No, wait, focus!

"Well, for starters, I'm not big into threesomes, but I've been feeling a bit more adventurous here lately." Dean barked out a laugh, a sharp sound in the small room, and then pulled himself back together.

"For real, who are you?" Dean asked.

Emma flicked through all the recent hunter gossip and tried not to sigh. Dean was the older brother, and the one that just recently returned from Hell after making a deal to get Sam's life back. (It was a story that she'd had problems believing, but too many hunters had told the same story so she knew there was some truth to it.) Caginess was to be expected, even more so than usual. Hunters were suspicious by nature, it was how they survived, but Emma had always tried to be open and honest when she could. She dropped her arms to drum her fingers on the table and met both their eyes.

"If you want to look me up, my whole name is Emmaline Grace Motley. I turned twenty-four at the beginning of this month, and I've been a hunter for the past seven years. Curious about how I got started?" It was the most common hunter meeting story. Have a shot of whiskey, slowly drink a beer, and spill your guts about why you were hunting the things that go bump in the night. Her job was so depressing.

"At seventeen?" Sam asked.

"Most hunters start out younger than that; most grow up in the business, like you two if the gossip's right. Those that aren't born into it normally crash land into the life, right? Well, that's me." She paused to reach up and tighten the ponytail her long brown hair was in, one of her nervous ticks, and blew out a breath as she looked up at the ceiling. "There were a few deaths in my hometown caused by freak accidents, but I didn't really think anything of it. Even when my step-dad died after falling down some stairs at work. It was just some horrible accident, you know? Then the night before the funeral, I heard some weird bumping noises and went to check it out. Found my mom hanging from the ceiling fan in the living room. By the time Bobby showed up, Mom had stopped breathing and I was having a full blown panic attack in my sister's room."

"Your sister?" Sam asked. Sam's hazel eyes were full of sympathy, but Emma couldn't read Dean. The distrust was strong in that one.

"She was one, so she doesn't remember anything. Bobby got into the house, saw what had happened, and called the cops. I knew that something wasn't right, after I pulled myself together. When I tried to help my mom, something that I couldn't see threw me against the wall and held me there until she stopped breathing. I begged Bobby to take me with him. I wanted to find what killed Mom. Bobby said I had a determined look in my eye, and that's why he took me along. Said if he didn't, I probably would've gone out on my own and gotten myself killed. He's not wrong." Emma took a moment to smile as she remembered the older hunter smiling fondly down at her as he told her that she was a damned good hunter, despite only hunting for a few short months at the time. "Turns out it was a witch going after some committee thing my parents were on. Just one angry old woman that knew enough witchcraft to kill people."

"What happened after that?" The question came from Sam, and it looked like Dean was trying to decipher the secrets of the universe as he stared at her.

"I stuck with Bobby for about six months and then he introduced me to a couple more hunters. Once I got the hang of things, I struck off on my own. Been that way ever since."

"What about your little sister?" Dean asked. Huh, so maybe Dean was trying to find all the secrets of her universe. The hard stare made her shift in her seat even as she started to answer his question.

"Ava is eight now. She got adopted almost immediately by this family out in California, the Rays. She's playing softball this year, and she made the honor roll," Emma said with a touch of pride in her voice.

"You keep track of her?" Emma tensed as she looked away from Dean's green eyes to look over at Sam.

"Of course. She's my baby sister, she's all I have left in this world. I've always kept track of her." That was part of her ritual. Go on a few hunts, check in on Ava, rinse and repeat.

"Does she know you?" She could feel Dean still looking at her, but she didn't look away from Sam as he asked the question.

"No. She was so young when everything happened, and she's better off not knowing. This way she can live a normal life." Okay, yeah, she could hear the gooey sap in her voice but it couldn't be helped. Ava was the brightest part of her shit-filled world, even if the kid didn't know her name.

"Ah, crap. We forgot dessert in the car. I'll be right back." Emma blinked and Sam was gone. Huh. Apparently having such long legs really could be handy.

"Is he okay?" Emma asked and looked over her shoulder at the motel door.

"He's fine." When Emma turned back to face him and raised a brow, Dean huffed and reluctantly continued. "We were pretty young when our dad got into the life, so normal wasn't something he had growing up. Probably wishes we had dumped him somewhere and let him be normal."

Emma resisted the urge to glare at the elder Winchester and bit her tongue to keep from correcting his word usage. Ava hadn't been dumped anywhere. She'd been given to a safe home. Emma had heard the rumors surrounding the Winchesters though, something about Sam being the antichrist, but there were a few things that she knew for sure. Their mom had died when they were both really young, and their dad became a hunter to avenge her. Growing up in the life couldn't have been easy, and Emma was sure that the brothers had seen things that would give even normal hunters nightmares. So it was a little hard to stay angry at Dean.

"Eh, I thought it was the best thing for her. I was only seventeen and living off of anger. It's no environment to raise a kid in," she said in a light tone.

"Yeah, yeah, now what are you hiding?" Dean's stare was sharper than any blade, but Emma resisted the urge to fidget.

"Hiding?" Emma asked with her most innocent smile. They kind of looked like big lugs, but there was some serious brain power hiding behind those thick looking skulls.

"You're holding back on something. I can tell."

"Straight up honesty?"

"Straight up."

"Ava was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor three hundred and twenty-one days ago. The doctors were going to attempt to operate, but her chances were… well, not good is putting it mildly."

"That's a very specific time frame." Dean's green eyes were a little darker than a moment ago, and Emma had to bite down on a smile. Yeah, he knew where this was going.

"It needs to be. In forty-four days, a nice little doggie is going to drag my ass all the way to Hell. I want to know exactly when he's coming."

"You sold your soul?!" Looked like Sam had finally returned.

"For your little sister." Dean wasn't asking a question. Emma had a feeling that if anyone could understand what she'd done, it was Dean Winchester.

"Yeah, for Ava. I figured, what's a little Hell as long as she gets to live a long life?" Ava was young, innocent, and normal. Emma had spent the past seven years killing monsters, and she was tired. So she didn't mind checking out as long as Ava got to live the life that she deserved.

"Bobby know?"

"Yeah, Dean, Bobby knows. He's the one that's gonna come salt and burn my bones when it's all said and done."

"How do you know where you'll be?" Sam asked. He was standing next to the table holding a plastic container with what looked like a pie inside of it, and Dean was staring at it like a man lost in the desert looked at a bucket of water.

"I know," she said with a small smile as she got to her feet. She grabbed her leftovers and looked between the two brothers. "Now, boys, it's been fun but it's time for me to go. It was really nice meeting you both and everything, but I've lingered here for long enough. Clock's ticking, you know?"

"Sure you don't want backup?" Sam was sweet and definitely her favorite. She paused in the doorway to the little motel room with a bag containing a half-eaten burger and some cold fries in one hand and a watery soda clutched in the other. She looked over her shoulder, met the two curious stares aimed at her, and smiled.

"You've got bigger fish to fry, and I'm future dog chow. Don't worry, you'll forget all about me after a little while. I'll be a blip in your memory. Take care!"

Emma breathed in the night air after closing the door behind her and then started walking. It hadn't been the usual night, not by a longshot, but it'd been a good one nonetheless. Now it was time to head to Florida to check on a possible vampire infestation.

 **28 APRIL 2010**

A painted school bus was parked on the side of an old back road leading into Gaston, Indiana as a storm raged all around. There'd been no point in trying to drive through the mess, so the bus had been parked. Emma Motley was deaf to the storm and passed out in the back, worn out from a hunt that she'd finished earlier that day, when it happened. Quiet little sighs were pushing past her lips to move the hair stubbornly clinging to her cheeks, and her arms were thrown above her head. The light was warm as it wrapped over her skin, and the sleeping hunter shifted on the mattress. Whispering pleas went unheard to the outside world, and Emma exhaled a single word before falling still. The light sunk into her skin within a few seconds, and it was all over.

 **02 MAY 2010**

"Hey, Bobby." Fuck, was that her voice? Emma barely recognized the wrecked sound squeezing out of her voice box, and she coughed a bit to try and smooth the words out before slowly massaging around the jugular area. She was reclined back in the front seat of her bus, with her eyes clenched tightly shut, and she tried to focus on the sound of her own breathing.

"How ya holdin' up, Em?" Bobby was trying to keep his tone light, but she could hear the worry underneath the words.

"Hallucinations are getting worse, so I'm guessing it's almost time." As if being summoned, the sound of a faraway howl cut through the tense air in the bus. Yeah, it wouldn't be long now.

"Fun last day?" It was easy to hear the strain in the older hunter's voice, and Emma tried to picture his face. It'd been years since she'd actually seen him, she was always on the move for the next hunt with no time to slow down, and a hunter's life didn't leave much time for drop-ins or Sunday dinners.

"I went to see Ava. She's getting so big, and she looks more like Mom every time I see her. You'll check up on her, yeah?"

"Sure I will."

He won't. The world was getting ready to end; the Apocalypse was banging on the front door while Lucifer pilfered through the kitchen, and everyone in the know was yelling about End Times. Bobby didn't have time to check up on some kid living a perfectly normal life, but he owed her a lie since it was her last day. There were bigger baddies out there, and Emma didn't expect Bobby to do her any favors after she was dead and gone. It was a nice lie though. A comforting one, even.

Dark eyes opened to stare at the top of her bus, and she listened to Bobby just breathing on the other end of the phone. If she concentrated hard enough, she could picture the way that Ava looked earlier that afternoon. In the past year, Ava's hair had started to grow longer again. It was such a light brown that it looked nearly blonde, like their Mom's hair. It was even perfectly straight and refused to curl, also like Mom's. Ava had been playing softball with her friends. She'd been smiling and laughing and was _healthy_. In the long run, that was all Emma cared about.

"Where are you?" Bobby's voice popped her back into the present, and she leaned up in her seat to look out of the bus's windows. She caught sight of some road signs and quickly rattled them off. California was a pretty good ways from South Dakota, but this place was mostly deserted. Which was weird since it was the beginning of May, but whatever.

"I'm going to walk down the beach, but it's bordered by some woods. I'll try to make it past the tree line before… yeah. It's a remote stretch of beach, so if you haul ass, you should get here before anyone else. I think there's still enough time."

"You're not even gonna fight?"

"What's there to fight? I knew what I was getting into, Bobby." She'd already had her mind made up the night she snuck into the hospital to hold Ava's hand, just for a moment while her little sister was heavily sedated.

"That's the thing, Em, I don't think ya do. Ya got no idea what's gonna happen to ya when ya get down there." Bobby sounded so tired, and Emma hated putting her baggage on him. Unfortunately, there was no one else that she trusted quite like the older hunter. Not with something like this, anyway.

"Unimaginable agony and a complete loss of self? The possibility of coming back topside as a demon? I get it, Bobby, I do… but what choice do I have? Go back on the deal and let Ava die? And don't give me that way-it's-supposed-to-be bullshit. She's a normal kid, and she's going to live a normal life."

"Alright, kid, I'm hearin' ya. Just wish there was another way."

"Another way for a hunter is just letting some other baddie get in the killing swing. It was real nice knowing you, Bobby." Emma snapped the phone shut before he could say another word and drew in a shuddering breath.

She tossed the phone into the back of the bus, kicked her flip-flops off into the floorboard, and popped the doors open before walking down the steps and outside. Her feet hit pavement first, and she closed the modified bus door before reaching up. She pulled on the tie holding her hair up and sighed once her hair fell free around her shoulders. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be with a headache because she forgot to undo her hair. The sun was warm against her skin when she tipped her face up, and she rolled her shoulders before she started walking.

The warm sand tickled the bottom of her feet as she walked out onto the beach, and she dug her toes into the feeling. There was a nice breeze coming over the water and cooling her skin, and she dragged her hands through her messy hair as the first few tears fell. After all her years of fighting, it was almost over. She was done, and this was a good place to die. The sand was warm on her feet, and the sun was hanging low in the sky and painting the horizon in some beautiful ass colors. The sound of a distant howl made her choke out a laugh that sounded like a sob, and she kept her eyes locked on the water with the dark smudge of woods on her peripheral. Ava had been wearing a red baseball hat, and she'd had black lines painted beneath her eyes as she laughed with her friends. Another howl, and it wouldn't be long now.

Definitely a nice place to die.

 **SAM**

"You sure this is the place, Bobby?" Sam asked as his eyes scanned the stretch of beach, but he didn't see anything. As they drove on, he noticed a lone dark-painted bus parked close to the beach.

"Yeah, this is the place. Look, I know we got more important things to do, so thanks for comin' out here with me."

"Emma seemed like a sweet girl." Dean was being unusually quiet as he stared out of the passenger window, and Sam had a small idea about why.

"Then you didn't really know Emma." Bobby's smile was fond and a little sad as he parked next to the dark bus. Sam's eyes scanned the beach again, but he still couldn't see evidence of anyone being there recently. He tried to look at his brother, but Dean's eyes were closed. Bobby grabbed a small duffel bag and stepped out of the car, and Sam clambered after him.

"I know we only talked to her for an hour or so, but she seemed like a good person," Sam said as he easily caught up to the older hunter.

"She was. A damned fine hunter too."

They were almost to the tree line when Sam noticed the deep grooves in the sand, and he knew Bobby saw them too because the older hunter huffed and followed the trail. Running footsteps marked the sand, and Sam tried not to wince when he caught sight of blood streaked across the ground. The trail led into the woods, and Sam and Bobby were both quiet as they walked. It didn't take them long to find her, because she hadn't made it far after getting into the woods. He could see the outline of her body before they got close, sprawled on her back, but his steps didn't falter.

They stopped next to the body, and Sam had to take a steadying breath. For a moment, all he could see was Dean lying dead in front of him with his body ripped to shreds. This wasn't Dean though. This was Emmaline Grace Motley, a hunter who traded her soul for her little sister's life. So, not Dean but definitely cut from the same cloth. She was barefoot, and her feet seemed untouched. The baggy white shorts she had been wearing were shredded and covered in blood. Her blaringly bright yellow tank top was in the same condition, and Sam really didn't like seeing her insides on the outside. Her dark brown hair was haloed around her head, and wide brown eyes stared unseeing up at the clear blue sky.

"Help me grab some wood," Bobby grunted and turned away.

Together, Bobby and Sam made a very small pyre to give her a proper hunter's farewell. It was small and quickly thrown together, because they had other things to worry about, but Emma deserved _something_. Still, before long, they were standing next to the burning body and keeping quiet. Emma Motley was a body that would never be found, a girl without a family to mourn her, another hunter lost to the life. It was a damn tragedy.

"So, what now?" Sam asked as they walked across the beach towards the car.

"Can you drive the bus back? She asked me to keep it, use it however I wanted," Bobby said quietly.

"Yeah, no problem. See you back at the house." Sam clapped Bobby's shoulder before they separated, and he walked over to the dark bus and was surprised when he realized that it was an actual school bus. The door was different from a normal school bus but opened easily, so it was unlocked.

Sam had to let the seat way back before he could even sit inside, and he spent a few moments cradling the old black flip-flops from the floorboard in his hands. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the same pair she'd been wearing when they met a couple of months ago. The same flip-flop he had stepped on in a crowded bar when he accidentally knocked her to the side. She chose to die barefoot. Did she want to feel the sand between her toes before dying? He thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd felt a small measure of peace before dying.

Sam dropped the flip-flops onto the couch behind the driver seat and reached for the keys still in the ignition. One of the keychains was a dangling zombie head and another was a huge sunflower. Just who was this girl? Out of curiosity, Sam glanced at the back of the bus. It had been transformed into a small living space, complete with couches and counters and a bed at the very back. There were also personal touches shown by a big open trunk sitting on one of the couches, a tee shirt was hanging off a lamp bolted to the ceiling, and a few other things were scattered about. He popped open the lockbox over the driver's seat, overlooked the usual vehicle paperwork, and pulled out a good-sized leather book. A hunter's journal, with lime green shoelaces holding the whole thing together. Large fingers deftly undid the laces, flipped open the front cover, and read the single line on the first page.

 _Emma Motley's Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101_

He laughed. It was wrong, because she was suffering in Hell, but he couldn't help it. Suddenly, he wished they had met the young hunter sooner. He would've liked to have known her. Talked to her. Listened to her. There was a coconut scented air freshener and a shot glass from Vegas dangling over the rearview mirror, and there was a scratched up iPod hooked up to the installed radio. He looked back down at the journal and rubbed a thumb over the words on the first page before carefully tying it closed again. He placed Emma's journal on the small couch, next to her flip-flops, and quickly pulled on his seatbelt. With a quiet sigh, he started up the bus and pulled away from the beach.

There were more pressing things to worry about than a hunter who had said a final farewell, like the looming Apocalypse.

 **•X•**

 **Finis:** I first started working on this story when Season 8 was still airing, so I've been writing on it off and on for about five years now. Emma is still one of my favorite OCs, and I hope you like her as well!


	2. Disgusted With All The Mushiness

**Words Fly:** Second chapter! I am going through and making edits, so you can expect regular updates for a while. This chapter picks up _after_ the end of Season Five. Sam is with Dean, Michael and Adam are in Heaven, and Emma is in Hell.

 **Warning:** Since Emma is in Hell, in this chapter and the next couple of chapters, there are somewhat graphic descriptions of torture. If reading makes you uncomfortable, you can skim over it. If you can't read any of Emma's sections, please send me a message and I can tell you the important information you need to know.

 **Summary:** Emma is learning how to enjoy the finer things in Hell and makes a friend. Sam reads in Vegas and comes to realize that his brother is a workaholic.

 **Post Date:** 25 June 2019

 **Word Count:** 5350

 _If you're going through hell  
_ _Keep on going  
_ _Don't slow down  
_ _If you're scared  
_ _Don't show it  
_ _ **If You're Going Through Hell by Rodney Atkins**_

 **•X•**

 **CHAPTER TWO  
** **DISGUSTED WITH ALL THE MUSHINESS**

 **13 MAY 2010**

 **EMMA**

 _Hell is… well, it's Hell. It's pain, and suffering, and death, and blood, and screams. It's curved hooks sinking deep into flesh and watching skin be stripped away one inch at a time. It's being nothing but an existing bag of slick blood and pieced together organs. It's wanting to die and remembering that you did, and look at where it got you. It's screaming in pain until your tongue is ripped out and then choking as the piece of meat is crammed down your throat. It's the smell of sulfur burning your nostrils and curling in your lungs. It's watching someone, some_ thing _, hold your brain in its claws and laughing as you attempt to understand how you're still thinking if your brain is all the way over there._

 _So, it's Hell. The worst part though? The worst part isn't the pain and suffering. No, that's what you expect in Hell. The worst part is having your torturer smile down at you after you're slowly and painfully stitched back together and asking, "Are you ready for it to end now? Don't you want it to stop?"_

" _Stop? Oh, darlin', we're just getting started. We're not stopping until I'm fucking purring."_

 _Then, suddenly, there's a blinding light. The light is so bright in the dark pit that it almost hurts as much as the torturing does and then there's nothing. Absolutely nothing, and it's wonderful. A reprieve._

 _So bright… so beautiful._

 **SAM**

"From the beginning."

"Dean, I told you—"

"From the beginning!"

Sam's jaw clenched as Dean looked down at him, because Sam was sitting in a chair in front of Bobby's desk while Dean stood in the center of the room, and Sam didn't back down but neither did Dean. Cas, who was leaning against the doorway that separated Bobby's study from the kitchen, was looking curiously at him. When Sam looked out of the corner of his eye, Bobby was sitting behind his desk and looking at him with an expectant look in his eye. They had been back at Bobby's for all of five minutes, and Sam was still trying to understand everything that had happened to him. Dean was asking him something that he didn't know how to answer.

Lucifer had possessed him. Sam had been trapped in his body and forced to watch as Lucifer tore his family apart. It was his hand that raised and his fingers that had snapped, and Cas had disappeared into a bloody mist. His hand that had caused Bobby's neck to snap, and he'd felt an almost phantom sensation of bone crushing against his palm. It was his hands that had hit Dean, over and over and over, until his brother's face was unrecognizable. He clearly remembered all of that, even though all of it had been undone. Cas was alive and had been able to bring them straight from the graveyard back to Bobby's house, Bobby was alive and still just as grumpy as ever, and Dean looked perfectly healthy without a single bruise in sight thanks to Cas.

Dean wanted to know about what happened _after_ Sam took control from Lucifer and _before_ everything had been undone. All three of them wanted to know what had happened when Sam started to fall, when he had grabbed Michael with the intention of damning them all, but Sam didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know how to explain the way it felt when Lucifer separated from his body, at what it was like to see two distinct lights instead of archangels. How did he tell Dean that he had looked over at Adam while they were falling, actually Adam and not Michael, and see the fear in their younger brother's eyes while they fell into Hell? He understood what Dean was asking, but he had no idea how to answer.

"I had Lucifer, and we were falling. Then, I don't know, man," Sam sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He couldn't describe the first part, so how could he describe what had happened after Lucifer and Michael separated from him and Adam? "Lucifer and Michael were suddenly just light, and me and Adam were falling slower. Then there was this other light, bigger and brighter than Lucifer or Michael. I remember it wrapping around me and feeling like I was being pulled upwards, and next thing I knew I was back in the graveyard. I don't what it was."

"What's the situation in Heaven?" Dean asked and looked over at Cas. The angel's eyes closed, and Sam's hands restlessly moved over his knees as they waited.

"Adam is back in his Heaven, and Michael is setting things to right," Cas easily explained. Sam thought that he'd seen Adam when he was being pulled upwards, but he didn't think Michael had been saved too.

"He isn't looking to jumpstart the Apocalypse all over again?" Dean asked without looking away from Cas. Sam shifted forward in his chair and felt how tense he was as he waited for the answer, because he needed all of this to be over. He needed the Apocalypse to be over.

"No. He seems almost…remorseful." Cas said the last word with muted surprise, but all Sam could feel was relief. He heard Dean snort in disbelief and watched as Cas glared at him, but Sam was still focused on how he relieved he felt at knowing the Apocalypse was over. The Apocalypse was over, and somehow they had all survived.

"Now what?" Bobby asked. Dean groaned out a sigh as he fell down onto the couch in the room, and he looked around at all of them as he fell back into the cushions.

"Now, we do whatever we want. I say Vegas," Dean said with a grin full of teeth. His eyes were dark despite the wide grin, because it had been one intense day after months of driving themselves ragged trying to stop the world from ending. It couldn't be this simple. They couldn't go through all of that and then just go to Vegas. Could they?

"I need to return to Heaven," Cas said while looking at Dean. Sam could only imagine how chaotic Heaven must be now that the Apocalypse was over, in a way that no one expected. Dean was glaring just a little as he looked up at the angel, and Sam was so full of relief that he almost laughed at the tension in the air as they stared each other down. _Almost_.

"Come on, Cas! We just stopped the apocalypse! You can take a vacation," Dean tried. All Cas did was tilt his head a little to the side, and Dean's shoulders slumped as he finally gave in. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture that Cas must have understood, because he disappeared with a quiet flutter of wings. The sound pulled at something in Sam's gut, but he couldn't figure out why.

"Vegas?" Sam questioned instead of trying to figure it out.

"Hell yeah!" Dean jumped into a standing position and wiped his hands against his jeans before looking over at them. "We just saved the world, and now we're going to Vegas. I'm going to pack."

Sam slowly turned in his chair and watched as Dean strolled off, so it looked like his brother was serious about this. Serious about them going to Vegas. Eventually, there was going to be fallout. One of them was going to breakdown and then the other one would follow. Maybe Dean had a point. They saved the world, which meant they had earned a vacation. If Dean wanted to go to Vegas and let off some steam, that was what they were going to do. Hopefully not until tomorrow, because he was exhausted after being possessed by an archangel and then almost falling into Hell. He could hear Dean muttering upstairs in the guest room, and he turned around in his chair until he was facing towards Bobby again.

"Emma's bus still here?" he asked after a minute.

"Yeah, same place you parked it. Why?" Bobby's eyes narrowed when Sam didn't immediately answer, and he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck while answering it.

"No reason, really. She had some books in the back that I wanted to look over," he explained. He remembered the trunk of books, but he was more curious about the journal he'd found. The one with lime green shoelaces and the first page that made him laugh even though the world had been ending.

"You do know that vacation time means you don't have to do research," Bobby said slowly. Sam shrugged and then stood up, and Bobby didn't say anything or try to stop him as he left the house.

The big dark green bus was still right where he parked it, and he sat down sideways in the driver seat so that he could look down at the couch on the driver's side of the bus. The dark brown journal was on the cushion next to the pair of flip-flops, right where he left it. His fingers touched against the worn leather and then he hefted the slightly overfull journal up, and he carefully tucked it into one of his inside jacket pockets. When he got some free time and was away from prying eyes, he was going to give it a good read. Then, to add credibility to what he'd told Bobby, he stood up and checked the inside of the trunk. Thankfully, it really was filled with books like he'd thought it was. Most of the books were for the job, but there were a few for personal reading pleasure. Before he closed and locked the lid, he was sure that he saw the Harry Potter books mixed in with all of the lore. He got the keys from the ignition and pushed them into his pants pocket, picked the trunk up, and started back towards Bobby's house.

 **05 JUNE 2010**

 **EMMA**

"What did you _do_?"

"Eligos, baby, we've been over this. The last thing I remember is a lot of light. Next thing I know, I'm here and staring up at your ugly mug," Emma answered and raised a brow at the demon looming over her.

Something must have happened when the Pit whited out—but it wasn't white, was it?—but she didn't remember any of it. One moment she had been relishing the joys of having a serrated blade sawing at her knees, and the next moment there was a light surrounding her that was so bright that it burned away everything else. Unfortunately, demons didn't just believe people's words. There was no trust in Hell. The light had to have been something bad though, because she was being tortured for information. As opposed to the regular Welcome-To-Hell garden variety torture she had been experiencing since she arrived around a decade ago.

"You're lying, Gracie, and we both know it. Tell me the truth, and I'll end this." The smile on the demon's face, if you could call that ugly mass of flesh a face, was sickly sulfuric. Her intestines were entwined around his wrist, and his pinky claw was slowly sawing away at her spine.

"I don't remember anything, you Renaissance reject." Her neck strained as she lifted her head from the table, and Eligos bared his teeth as he leaned down towards her.

"That one was weak." His clawed hand was wrapped tight around her spine, and all it took was one squeeze to get her to scream and collapse against the table. She wasn't going to let a little pain stop her from bantering though.

"Like your torturing methods?" His grin was all sharp teeth and a slithering tongue, and Emma arched up against the hold on her spine so that she was within spitting distance of the demon's face. "Come on and show me what you've really got!"

"Emma, love, quit teasing poor Eligos." At the sound of the new voice, Eligos straightened up and ripped his hand out of Emma's ragged insides. It felt like her throat was tearing as she screamed, and her head rolled against the table so that she could look over at the newcomer.

Eligos, her current torturer, looked like a traditional demon. Like something found in a Renaissance painting, complete with hooves and a tail. This new dude, however, looked like a human. A tall human too, at least six feet. He wasn't a skinny little guy either, but he looked all mixed up. Unlaced heavy black boots and ripped black skinny jeans made her think of some punk kids that used to hang outside the grocery store in her hometown. The light gray tee shirt that stretched across his chest and was lightly splattered with blood looked like it belonged to a serial killer who was just getting home after a fun night, and he was wearing a perfectly tailored black coat over it. His brown hair was artfully messy as if he'd just stepped inside to avoid the wind and was the complete opposite of the bloody lumps that her hair had been reduced to, and she could clearly see the little bit of stubble on his cheeks and chin. He was scruffy and beautiful, and Emma kind of hated him.

"This is none of your business, Daniel!" Then again, maybe she shouldn't pass such quick judgment on someone who pissed off Eligos enough to make steam rise from his bony shoulders.

"It is, actually. Our sweet impatient king is dismayed at your progress and is requesting your presence. Don't worry, I'll guard little Emma in your absence." Eligos growled, sliced off her left ear, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. For a big bad demon, he really was a huge drama queen.

"Such a temper on that one," the new demon sighed as he sat down next to her hip. Because he had to be a demon. Only demons were allowed to move around so freely in the Pit. After sitting, he knocked his knuckles against the wooden table. The bloody mess where he knocked was below her hips where her legs used to be, before they were pulverized.

"And you're a great big fluffball, huh?" The demon chuckled quietly under his breath and ran a hand down his denim strangled thigh.

"You have spunk, little love, I'll give you that. Real spunk. How long have you been down here?" Dark brown eyes peered down at her, and Emma used her bloody tongue to wet her lips. There was more blood than saliva, but whatever. It was the thought that counted, right?

"A little over ten years now. I like watching the clock, when I have eyeballs. Why are there clocks in Hell anyway?" It was a nice change of pace to have an actual conversation, instead of just gurgling out insults as she was tortured.

"Demons are obsessed with time, perhaps because time is different down here. Have you noticed? It's only been a month topside." The demon's soft deep voice and British accent were like a soothing balm after listening to Eligos's angry rumbling for so long, and she hummed a little in the back of her blood coated throat.

"I've noticed. Is this like a good cop-bad cop thing? Here to butter me up and hope I spill my guts?" Emma tilted her chin down to look at herself and nibbled at the flesh that remained on her bottom lip. "Well, what guts aren't already hanging out."

"I'm just here to sit with you for a little while. Personally, I don't care about who was responsible for the little light show. Love the way you're messing with Eligos. I haven't seen him that mad in centuries." The scruffily beautiful demon smiled down at her, and it was such a pretty smile. Full bottom lip, straight white teeth, the works. Were there dentists in Hell?

"I'm not messing with him," Emma sighed. She knew that there would be torture in Hell, but she hadn't been prepared for interrogation. Her only distraction was trading insults back and forth, but she had been completely honest with Eligos.

"You really don't remember?" the demon asked. Eligos kept asking her what she had done, but she didn't do anything. There had been pain and then there had been light, and that was all she knew. After the light, she had woken up with Eligos.

"I don't even know what Eligos is talking about. What did the light even do?" A scruffy face filled her vision, and she lazily blinked up at the demon. If she wasn't in Hell and being dismembered on the regular, she'd consider flirting with the pretty demon.

"You really don't know," the demon whispered with a look of astonishment.

"That's what I've been saying. You demon bastards can't hear worth shit, you know that?" The amazed look faded into something more sorrowful, and fingers gently brushed a clump of hair off of her cheek.

"I really am sorry, love." For some absurd reason, Emma actually believed him. Maybe she was finally starting to lose it?

"Hand her over, Daniel. It's back to the racks for this one." Eligos's loud voice snapped both of their heads to the side, and Emma ran her eyes over the demon that'd spent the past year torturing her. She knew that the demons in the Pit were just doing their job, but she really hated Eligos.

"Back to the racks?" Emma and Daniel asked in unison.

"Crowley says he doesn't care about you anymore. No skin off his back, I believe the saying is." Eligos flashed a smile at her that showed off the sharp points of his teeth and then turned his coal black eyes to Daniel. "He said to toss the little bitch back onto her rack. If it happens again, I get to build her a special little cage. Made of her own bones."

"I'll be seeing you, love." Dry lips and a bit of scruff brushed across her forehead and then the beautiful demon was gone, leaving her with Eligos.

The demon grinned down at her as he dug deep enough into her torso to wrap his clawed fist around her spinal column, and Emma locked her jaw just in time to hold in a scream. With a quick heave, she was ripped off of the table. Her stomach pressed against the bony protrusions coming from the demon's shoulder, and she let out a weary sigh as she lifted her head enough to look at the table. She was leaving her hands and a piece of her scalp behind.

" _Back to the rack it is,"_ was her last coherent thought.

 **SAM**

 _ **Journal Entry: June 12, 2004**_

 _My first standalone hunt went swimmingly! I mean that quite literally too. Damn merman was nothing like Ariel. Although, I did sing a beautiful rendition of "Under the Sea" while I dragged Poseidon's ugly brother out of the water and turned him into my own personal bonfire. I kind of wish that grindylows were smaller, like in Harry Potter, and not exactly man-sized. The thing was eating little kids though, two so far, so something had to be done. That was the easy part. Stitching myself up later was not fun. The damned fish cut a stripe from my hip to my knee. Let's just say that my tight jeans are officially off the menu for the foreseeable future. I was never good at sewing, despite Mom's best efforts, but I'm really wishing I'd paid more attention now. Also, I'm going to have to buy some more thread. I think black is more traditional, but I'd rather have any other color than the one I'm sporting now. What kind of monster hunter gets stitched up with pink thread? I guess though, considering it's my first hunt on my own, I did pretty good. I mean, I'm sitting here and able to write, yeah?_

Sam's index finger traced over the words as he tried to picture the scene in his mind. Emma had some lean muscle packed on, but she had been so damned small. Grindylows weren't very big, but they were vicious. She could've picked something easier to fight against for her first standalone case, but it sounded like she had done a good job. Sam didn't know many hunters who took on grindylows by themselves, but Emma had hunted one on her very first case without backup. She had only been eighteen; when Sam was eighteen, he left hunting to go to college.

It was interesting, reading Emma's journal. The very beginning hadn't been easy. She'd started writing in the journal right after her mother's death, and the beginning entries were bitter and angry. She spent half a year with Bobby, and the entries towards the end of those six months started to become a little lighter and what he recognized as a precursor to Emma's own brand of realistically bright humor. By the time she left Bobby to work with some other hunters, the entries weren't as dark and there was more hope. After hunting with others for a couple of months, the entries became more humorous. One page had facts and statistics about shapeshifters, and the next page was a recipe for chocolate fudge brownies. There was a balance.

"Sam! Are you comin' out or not?!" Sam looked up from the journal to see Dean standing in the doorway to their connected hotel rooms, hotel instead of motel since they were on vacation, and his brother was looking down at the journal open on the bed next to his hip.

"Yeah, I'll be right out," Sam said and scooped the journal up.

"Dude, you're reading that thing again?" Sam didn't say anything as he carefully tied the overfilled journal closed with the same green shoelaces, and he placed it against his knee. His hand spread out against the worn leather to keep it from falling, and his thumb lightly stroked the spine as Dean continued to look at him. "You should stop reading that, Sam. She's gone. Thinking about her…it's not good for you, man."

"I'm not reading this to keep her memory alive or anything like that. It's just interesting." The beginning hadn't been easy reading, but the newer entries were interesting and he wasn't even close to the halfway point yet. Emma Motley hadn't been as jaded as most of the other hunters that Sam had met, and he liked reading her perspective on hunting.

"A hunter's journal is interesting?" Dean asked and crossed his arms.

"Hers is," Sam said and shrugged. He looked away from the journal and up at Dean, who was starting to look worried. Sam couldn't have that. "So, poker tonight?"

"Sammy, it's Vegas. We're gonna take in a show!" Sam placed the journal on the table next to the bed, tapped the cover, and then followed Dean out of the room.

 **11 NOVEMBER 2010**

 **EMMA**

"How's the rack, love?" Emma slowly stretched what remained of her body and then allowed her head to flop to the side.

"Starting to feel like it's made of goose feathers," she drawled.

"Do you know how long you've been down here?" Emma blinked up at Daniel, who was still in his scruffily beautiful meat suit, and managed to shake her head in the negative.

"The last demon bastard took down the clock. Said he was tired of the way I focused on it, when I should be focusing on him. So, how long have I been roasting?" She knew she had been in Hell for at least forty years, she reached the forty year mark before the clock was taken away, but she didn't know how much time had passed since then. Days, weeks, months, years. Time seemed to blend together when every day was the same.

"Sixty years now. Sixty years without breaking is very impressive. Why won't you give in? The pain will go away if you let it." Strong and gentle fingers combed through the left side of her hair, because her brain was leaking out of the hole in the right side of her skull.

"What's it matter to you? Who cares about who's being tortured and who's doing the torturing?" Every day it was the same thing. Blinding and creative pain, some asshole demon asking her if she was ready to get off the rack and pick up a knife, and then more pain when she refused. The cycle was never ending, so she didn't see why it would matter who was where. She wasn't about to torture anyone, which meant that her place was on the rack and that was that.

"I like you, little Emma, but it's been sixty years. You shouldn't still be on the rack." Daniel's fingers were gentle as they moved through her hair, and she couldn't understand why he looked so concerned. She was just another person who had made the choice to sell her soul. Unlike most people who made a deal though, she had known exactly what she was signing up for ahead of time.

"I didn't realize there was a time limit," she quipped and raised a brow.

"There isn't. Most souls break before a decade, and nearly all break before the first century. You don't need to hang on that long. Sixty years is an amazingly long time. There's no shame in leaving the rack." He was nearly whispering now, and Emma thought he might even be pleading with her.

"Who's ashamed? I _like_ the rack. There's nothing like amputation to wake you up in the morning." Emma forced a smile and let her body relax against the rusty nails holding her onto the table. Like she had somewhere else to be?

"So much fire, love. Don't let it get snuffed out." A whispering kiss was placed against her forehead and then Daniel was gone. Emma's latest torturer stepped up to the plate, and she let her remaining three toes pop. Back when she was alive, she was constantly curling and popping her toes. It was nice knowing that some things never changed.

"This time, don't forget to scream."

 **SAM**

It'd been six months since the Apocalypse that wasn't, and Sam still sometimes woke up in the middle of the night with a blinding light imprinted on the back of his eyelids. After Vegas, Sam and Bobby had dragged Dean back to South Dakota. For a little while, the brothers had no idea what to do moving forward. Their whole lives, their only goal was to find the thing that had killed their mom. They found it, found the demon, and carried out their destinies. The Winchesters started the Apocalypse and then they ended it, without killing half of the population in the process. For the first time since Sam was born, they didn't have a goal. They had done what they were meant to do, so what were they supposed to do now?

They wanted to do a few hunts, so they did. The one thing that they agreed on was that they didn't want to live on the road anymore. Staying in motels while they were on a hunt was one thing, but they both wanted a place to come back to. Even Dean, who had supposedly never thought of another life, wanted a place to be able to stop and relax at for a bit in between hunts. With Bobby's hesitant blessing, they settled into guest rooms while they thought of what to do next. Then, about two months ago, Dean had walked into the kitchen and tossed some papers onto the table before declaring, "We're building a house, Sammy!"

The blueprints were, to Sam's surprise, perfect. He had always known that his older brother was smart, but the mathematical equations and dimensions were all worked out down to a quarter of an inch. It had been obvious that Dean had worked hard on the prints, and they started planning everything out right away. They started building a few weeks later, on the piece of land right next to Bobby's house, and Sam started to believe that building a house was the hardest thing he had ever done. Then again, he was sure that he thought that because Dean didn't know what a break was. Most days, they worked from sunup to past sundown with only a short lunchbreak whenever one of them felt hungry.

"Sam! Bobby and I are heading out! Sure you don't want to come?" Sam stubbed rubbing the towel over his head and looked through his wet bangs at his brother.

"Dude, we worked until midnight last night. I'm not going anywhere. Tell Jody I said hey and that I'll see her next time." They had seen Sheriff Jody Mills regularly over the past several months, and Sam really enjoyed being around the no-nonsense sheriff. Usually, once every other week or so, Bobby and both brothers joined Jody at her house for dinner. Sam loved visiting Jody, loved the routine of it all, but he was exhausted.

"Yeah, okay. Don't do anything too girly while we're gone," Dean said as he turned away.

"I'll save some nail polish for you!"

Sam was smiling as he dropped back against his bed in Bobby's guest room and then stretched his arms out. His fingers brushed against something under the pillow, and Sam slowly pulled it out to see what it was. Emma's journal. He thought he'd left it in one of his bags, but he must have left it on the bed the last time he read it. Dean had them so busy lately that he hadn't had the time to read it in quite a while, but he did keep it close by just in case he had a free moment. Sam moved up the bed until his shoulders were propped up against the headboard, and he carefully raised the journal up. He slowly untied the shoelaces, found the penny he had been using as a bookmark, and started to read.

 _ **Journal Entry: February 09, 2005**_

 _I haven't been on a hunt in the past week. I have discovered that hunting isn't all that easy when my entire right arm is out of commission. So, I've been sitting around and cooling my heels. I've been so busy lately that it feels a little weird to just sit. The only people that I've seen in the past few months are diner waitresses with empty eyes, bored motel clerks when I can't find a shower, freaked out and traumatized victims, and dead people. It's kind of nice, to just stop and smell the roses. It reminds me of why I decided to stick with this business in the first place. Take for example, today. I went to a local park, sat on a bench, and just watched. It sounds a little creepy and stalkerish, but it wasn't like that. Really._

 _There was this one couple, obviously still in the honeymoon phase. They were sharing a picnic, and they were completely blind to everyone and everything else around them. They laughed, they whispered, and they shared a giant piece of chocolate cake. There was an old lady, with perfectly permed hair, feeding some bread to the ducks. A group of kids were playing hide-n-seek while their mothers sat in a circle laughing as their eyes darted around to check on their running children. Everyone was so happy. Everywhere I looked, there was smiles and laughter. It was like something out of a damned chick flick, but I couldn't even get disgusted with all of the mushiness. Nope, instead I had a full on girly moment and nearly started crying._

 _This is why I decided to keep hunting, after the need for revenge was burned out. I'm a hunter because I want to help people. Because I want the world to be a happier place. I want the entire world to be like that park._

Sam decided that Emma Motley was a dreamer. Not for the first time, he really wished that he'd had the chance to get to know her.

 **•X•**

 **Finis:** Not too bad, right? Emma is going to be in Hell for a few chapters, but she won't be there forever. A few things just have to happen first. If there are any questions, I'd be happy to answer them!

 **Kay's Corner:** Thank you so much for the review! I've been doing my best to make the original story better, so I hope you still like it!

 **Paigetcute:** More updates are definitely coming! The edits are only meant to explain things better and to clean up the original problems, but this is still an Emma/Michael story. Thank you for the review!

 **agent-jawa:** I am so glad to hear that you like Emma! I love all of the OCs that I have created, but Emma will always have a special place in my heart. I am definitely keeping Emma's and Gabriel's epic friendship the same, because I loved writing their scenes too much to change them. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

 **SakiHanajima1:** I am so happy that you like the story! I know we've already talked about the story, so I'll keep this reply spoiler free. I just want to say: thank you so much for reading and for leaving a review!


	3. Poster Boy For Goodness

**WF:** The plot is starting to move forward, so I hope you enjoy reading! Also, huge THANKS to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed! You're the best!

 **Warning:** Emma is still in Hell, unfortunately, so there's still some slightly graphic depictions of torture. If reading any of it makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip that section and you can message me to ask what happened.

 **Summary:** Emma is still roasting as Hell's favorite source of entertainment and is starting to experience memory loss. Sam receives all kinds of news, from worst possible to kinda good.

 **Post Date:** 30 June 2019

 **Word Count:** 7180

 _There's no surrender  
_ _And there's no escape  
_ _Are we the hunters?  
_ _Or are we the prey?  
_ _ **Game Of Survival by Ruelle**_

 **•X•**

 **CHAPTER THREE  
** **POSTER BOY FOR GOODNESS**

 **16 AUGUST 2011**

 **EMMA**

"Well, if it isn't Mo's little pet. How ya holding up, Gracie?" Emma tried to focus through the red haze that she was trapped in and struggled to see until she remembered that she wouldn't be able to see anything. She needed eyes in order to see. Where did that last demon toss her eyes to? She'd like them back eventually. The voice sounded familiar, she knew who was with her, so she spoke even though she couldn't see and confirm her suspicion.

"Still holding strong. Is that you, Meg?" A dark laugh tickled against her eardrums, and she let her tongue prod at the empty places where her teeth used to be.

"I've come to play."

"Oh, goody."

 **SAM**

Sam was reading _Goblet of Fire_ , the fourth Harry Potter book that he'd found in Emma's trunk, on Bobby's front porch when he heard it. Dean's patented "sonofabitch!" echoing throughout an entire house was never a good thing, and Sam was on his feet barely a second later and running inside. Bobby and Dean were both standing in the study next to Bobby's desk, glaring at the man standing in the middle of the study. Sam stopped cold and froze in the doorway, because he knew exactly who had decided to pop into Bobby's home. Dark eyes flicked over to him and a glass filled with amber liquid was raised in his direction.

"Thought I heard your clomping hooves."

"Crowley." The demon grinned and sipped at his glass, and Sam looked over at Dean while still keeping Crowley in sight. "What's he doing here?"

"That's what we're waitin' on," Bobby grumbled and dropped back down into his seat. Crowley smiled, waved his hand to motion for the two brothers to take a seat, and then began to pace once they had reluctantly complied.

"Believe it or not, boys, but there are some out there that just don't like me," Crowley finally stated.

"I find that plenty believable," Dean countered.

"There are some that prefer Lucifer's reign to my own. Demons that believe they can free him from the Cage, or that they can find a more suitable replacement to run Hell." Sam felt his skin get tight as he imagined Lucifer free, _free and looking for Sam to take him over again_ , and he barely heard Dean's angry grumbling.

"Why are you here? All of it, this time," Bobby said over the sound of Dean's ranting and Sam's panic. Crowley looked at Bobby, looked at the ground, and finally looked at the ceiling before he started talking.

"A lot of demons are mad at the two of you, for ruining the big plan. They're mad at me, for aiding you and taking over as the King of Hell. They're destroying things down under and have been causing a ruckus topside. Seems as if the Winchesters are taking a break though and haven't risen to the bait."

"You came here to _warn_ us?" Sam asked. He could easily hear the disbelief in his voice, so he was sure that everyone else in the room could hear it too.

"So we're not still friends?" Crowley asked with a pronounced pout. At their blank faces and complete silence, the demon rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Sam blinked, just once, and Meg was standing next to Crowley. Her hands and arms were covered in blood up to her elbows and a few red splatters were even on her cheeks.

"Well, if it isn't the Wondertwins. Why am I here?" Meg questioned after looking around the room.

"Busy torturing again?" Crowley asked it so casually, as simply as someone people asked how the weather was. Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look before looking over at Bobby, and the older hunter just shrugged.

"It works wonders for my stress levels," Meg explained. Her brow raised when she realized the three hunters were all staring at her and then repeated, "Why am I here?"

"Tell the Winchesters what you've heard," Crowley ordered and gestured towards them with his glass.

As it turned out, Crowley wasn't lying. Meg had been undercover, somewhat, when she discovered what a group of demons wanted to do. They didn't want to attack the Winchesters outright. They weren't that stupid. No, they wanted to lure the two hunters out and wear them down before launching a full-scale attack. They also wanted to overthrow Crowley, which didn't sound so terrible on the surface. Crowley, while still an asshole, was pretty good as far as Kings of Hell went. It was a little unclear who the demons wanted to replace Crowley, but Meg had heard enough to believe that it was a demon high on the food chain. Not as high as Lilith but close. If whoever it was took over, things could get messy. Possibly Apocalyptically messy. Meg finished her story, crossed her blood-caked arms, and arched a brow. Bobby downed a shot, Dean cussed under his breath, Sam resisted the urge to fist his hands in his hair, and Crowley finished off his drink before disappearing the glass and looking expectantly at them.

"So, any plans?" Crowley was the one who broke the silence, and Sam met Dean's eyes as his brother shrugged.

"Want us to go after them? Guns blazing?" Dean asked.

"Three humans against a horde of demons? Be my guest." Crowley made a show of looking around the room, but he only focused on Dean when he asked his next question. "Where's your angel?"

"Playing soldier boy in Heaven. It's just us now." Sam locked his jaw because now was not an appropriate time to laugh, but Dean sounded like a teenager whose crush refused to acknowledge him.

"I'll send someone that I can trust to help you along. Meg will keep playing the double agent, won't you?" Crowley looked over at the other demon after asking it, and Meg raised a brow as she spun on her heel to face the King of Hell.

"Playing double agent against who?" Meg puckered her lips to blow a kiss and then disappeared, which left only four of them in Bobby's study.

"What do you mean send someone? We're not babysitting some demon!" Dean yelled.

"I'll send Daniel," Crowley said with a thoughtful look. He waved before disappearing, and the room was silent for a moment as the three hunters looked at each other.

"Well, you got a vacation that lasted a little over a year. 'S more than what most hunters get," Bobby pointed out.

"Sonofabitch!"

 **EMMA**

"Can you hear me, love?" She had been wondering when her favorite demon was going to stop in for another visit.

"Yes," she answered quietly and kept her eyes closed. For once, Emma was completely whole. It usually didn't last long, so she normally tried to enjoy the sensation for as long as she could. She tensed her body, slowly relaxed, and then opened her eyes to look up at Daniel. He carded his strong fingers through her hair, like he was wont to do, and smiled down at her. He was still in the same scruffily beautiful meat suit as always, so he must be partial to it. She was glad he didn't trade meat suits on the regular like a lot of the demons seemed to do, because it was nice to see a familiar friendly face.

"I'm leaving for a little while. Going topside for the first time in nearly two thousand years." Daniel let out a long breath at the omission, and Emma couldn't identify the look on his face. Whatever he was feeling, it was something that she couldn't comprehend.

"Is that Hell years or Earth years?" she asked. She had seen other demons back down when Daniel walked in, demons would actually stop torturing her and disappear whenever he visited, so he must be either really strong or really old.

"Earth years." Emma sucked in a quick breath and held it before slowly pushing it out. Damn, Daniel was really old. Like, _ancient_. What was he doing petting her hair and giving her cutesy little forehead kisses? He should be out pillaging or something.

"Well, things have changed a bit since then," was all that she could think to say.

"I know. I've got cable," Daniel shrugged and let his fingers drag across the strong pulse in her throat. She still had a heartbeat, which was weird since she was dead and everything. She didn't even have a body. She was just a soul that looked like her body, for the time being. She was pretty sure that she'd be dismembered before too much longer.

"Have fun then, and always use protection." Daniel's light laugh washed over her, and Emma basked in the simplicity of the sound. Oh, to laugh in Hell. That must be a wonderful feeling. The only time Emma laughed was when she was being torn apart, and she laughed because sometimes it was the only thing she could do to keep herself sane. As if hearing her thoughts, which was entirely possible, Daniel's eyes narrowed down at her.

"One hundred and fifty years, Emma. This is starting to get a little ridiculous." His brows furrowed in concern as he continued to stare down at her, and Emma smiled wide enough to show both rows of her teeth.

"It can stay ridiculous. I'm not torturing anyone, Danny. I came here to be tortured." She might have said it in a slightly teasing tone, but she was completely serious.

"For all your many sins?" Daniel asked as he stood up to his full height.

"Something like that." The brown eyes looking down at her were mournful in their intensity, and she wished for a moment that her hands weren't chained to the table so that she could comfort him. She was the one being regularly tortured, but she wanted to comfort a demon. That wasn't a possibility though, so she smiled for him instead. "Have fun topside. I'll still be here when you get back."

After another little forehead kiss, Emma was alone. Dark eyes stared up into the never ending nothingness as she focused on why she was suffering in Hell, why she was stretched out on a rack in the Pit. Her little sister. She was in Hell to save her little sister. The little sister with brown hair so light that it nearly looked blonde, and she was on the honor roll. Light colored hair and a big smile as she played softball. Her baby sister was alive and healthy, and that was all that really mattered. She was safe…

…what was her name again?

 **SAM**

Sam sneaked a look over at the newly arrived demon for the hundredth time in the past hour since the demon had first popped up. The guy was, well, he wasn't what Sam had been expecting. So far, he seemed okay. As okay as a demon could be anyway. He had a slight problem with touching things though. Like he was doing now. He was moving around the room and letting his fingers trail over the titles of all the books in Bobby's study. His brown hair was sticking up, and his unlaced boots thunked across the ground even though he was moving quietly. Using him in a sneak attack was going to be next to impossible.

"So, Daniel."

"You may call me Danny."

"Uh-huh, right. So, Daniel, why exactly are you here?" Sam asked. He had been sitting in a chair in front of Bobby's desk while watching the demon move around the room, and he was tired of all the silence.

"To lend a helping hand. For some reason, Crowley seems to want you two alive. I think I'm the only one he trusts, except for Meg, and that's only occasionally." The demon sounded amused, in a muted sort of way, and Sam shifted in his chair.

"Why does Crowley trust you? I thought demons trusted no one?" The demon paused and twisted around just enough for Sam to see brown eyes looking curiously at him.

"Perhaps trust is the wrong word to use, but I have never given Crowley any reason to doubt my loyalties," he said as he walked around the desk. He stopped to lean against the doorway that separated the study from the living room, and Sam held still as the demon's eyes locked with his.

"You're loyal to Crowley?" Where were Dean and Bobby? It did not take an hour to do a supply run, and Sam didn't like being the one left behind to deal with the demon.

"No, I'm loyal to Hell. Not to be confused with being loyal to Lucifer. He was always a bit of a fanatic, but, I suppose, I'm the fool that followed after him." The demon's lips twisted into a parody of a smile, and Sam felt his curiosity warring against his distrust of all things demonic. What could he say? He learned his lesson.

"You followed after Lucifer?" he finally asked.

"Bad decision on my part. He was beautiful, once, and filled with a light so bright that it burned. Of course, I was far from the only one that followed after him. Followed him into Hell and then again into a war against Heaven, but that was ages ago. Back when there was enough of us to actually create an army." He sounded almost wistful as he tapped his fingers against the wall, and Sam shifted in his chair again as his mind quickly processed what the demon had just revealed.

"You're a fallen angel," Sam realized. The demon walked over to where Sam was sitting and gracefully dropped onto the floor at Sam's feet. His eyes were open as he stared up at the hunter, and Sam had to fight the urge to fidget under such an unwavering stare. Because unwavering stares were really uncomfortable, unless the two people staring at one another happened to be in love. (Sam wasn't thinking about anyone in particular that applied to. Honestly.)

"And you are the human vessel of Lucifer. Why should I confide in the human that sheltered Lucifer?" Sam was ready to get defensive, but the demon wasn't taunting him. It was an honest question.

"Because I'm the human that sent Lucifer back to the Cage," was Sam's honest answer. The demon smiled, and he looked younger when he grinned.

"Fair point, Sam Winchester, fair point," the demon said while slowly nodding. His hands gripped his ankles as he continued to look upwards, and Sam waited patiently for him to start talking. "I was the second demon ever created, second only to Lilith. The others looked up to me, the first human souls that were turned into demons, and I watched the angels burn them from the inside out. I fought in a war that I lost belief in, and I have stayed in Hell for millennia and watched as souls were tortured until nothing human remained. I think that we can both agree that I am beyond redemption?"

"I don't think that's our decision to make." Sam didn't think it was God's decision either at this point, not after the no-shows and everything else that had happened, but he still didn't think that humans had any right to judge either.

"I turned my back on being an angel and have failed as a demon, but I do not…I do not want this world to end because of my kind. Because of demons or angels."

The eyes looking up at him were ancient and nearly pleading, and it hit Sam like a semi. This demon, Daniel, knew something. He knew something big, so why hadn't he told Crowley? Unless, of course, he didn't trust the current King of Hell. Which wouldn't be all that surprising, because, _demons_. So why would he want to tell Sam? It wasn't like he was a poster boy for goodness either. Still though, if this demon knew something about all of the things happening with the demons, Sam had to try to find out.

"Do you know who wants to free Lucifer?" Daniel's lips pinched into a thin line at Sam's question, but the demon didn't look away. Sam suddenly realized that Dean and Bobby were back in the room, standing just inside the doorway leading into the kitchen, but he couldn't look over at them. He couldn't mess this up. He needed to stay focused until he found out what this demon knew.

"Not long after Lucifer was returned to the Cage, I felt something _shift_. It was small, I doubt that the angels in Heaven even felt it, but I was an angel once. I may be a demon now, but I was once an angel and can feel things that other demons can't. I felt _**them**_ , for the first time since Lucifer was first caged. They are the only two left that are strong enough to free Lucifer that would also want him to be free."

"Which two?" There were so many different theories and speculations about the first fallen angels and therefore the first demons, so they really needed names for a solid starting point.

"Belial and Abaddon." It was a quiet admission, and the demon looked down at his unlaced boots afterwards. Sam recognized the names, but he only knew lore which wasn't always the truth.

"Did they fall too? And become demons like you and Lilith?" The demon shook his head and then ran a hand over the top of his hair.

"Belial followed after Lucifer, but he held onto his grace. Like I should have." The demon paused to shrug before continuing his explanation, "Abaddon is the Angel of Destruction. She was created to spread destruction across Heaven, Hell, and Earth during the Apocalypse. She went against her destiny and fought for Lucifer, as did Belial. They were sealed deep inside the Earth at the end of Lucifer's war against Heaven, and I imagine it's taken them this long to get free. Together, they will be unstoppable."

"You sayin' we don't have a chance?" Dean's rough voice didn't seem to faze the demon, because he didn't react at all and instead just continued to look up at Sam. As if he hadn't even heard Dean speak.

"Before, I would have believed that nothing and no one could stop Lucifer from getting what he wanted. However, in light of recent events, I think I will have to redefine the word impossible. At least when said in reference to the Winchesters." He paused to smile at Sam and then finally looked over his shoulder at Dean. "The only reason I'm topside after so many years is because of you two. I wanted to see who messed up Lu's big plans."

The demon's smile looked a little cruel and he used to be an angel, but he seemed alright. In a creepy fallen-angel-turned-demon kind of way. He was facing Sam again, so Sam was able to see the way his brown eyes went vacant for a moment. Completely empty, like the meat suit was suddenly void. Then his eyelashes fluttered as he laughed, and Sam looked away from him and over at Dean. His older brother looked just as confused at the shocked sounding laugh, and Dean just shrugged.

"Something funny?" Dean asked.

"There's a particular little soul in Hell, just a small wisp of a thing, that's been roasting on the rack for a century and a half. Hell years, that is. She likes to call out to me and critique her torturers, usually just to piss them off." That was possibly the most disturbing thing that Sam had ever heard. Well, maybe not _the_ most disturbing. It was just the way demon looked, like he was awed and possibly a little sad.

"A century?" Dean looked pale and a little like he was going to be sick, and Sam couldn't stop himself from wondering if Dean was thinking about his time spent in Hell. Dean spent forty years down there, Hell time, and only thirty of those years were spent on the rack. This soul had been down there for one hundred and fifty years, and the person was still on the rack?

"Is that even possible?" The question slipped out of Sam, but it was something that he wanted to know the answer to.

"It's not impossible, but it is rare. Most souls are locked away into their own cells once reaching Hell, but deal-makers don't get their own personal Hells. Souls that are there from making a deal go to the racks, where they are tortured until they pick up a knife. After that, they carve at others who chose to make a deal until their souls completely burn out."

"And turn to smoke," Bobby huffed.

"Right you are." The demon snapped his fingers and pointed at Bobby, but then he turned to look at Sam again. "Most break instantly. A human soul lasting over a decade is very rare."

The demon was still looking at Sam as he quirked an eyebrow, and Sam got it. He was talking about Dean, the Righteous Man, who lasted thirty years before getting off the rack. Most souls broke before the end of a decade, but Dean lasted for three decades. The demon wanted him to know that Dean had lasted longer than most souls, but Sam didn't know why. Didn't understand why the demon had felt the need to explain that. Because Sam already knew that Dean was stronger than most.

"Well, we've got names so let's get to work." Sam nodded at Bobby's words and ignored the demon still sitting at his feet. There was work to do; research on the angels that wanted them dead, demons and possibly angels to be on the lookout for, and Apocalypses to avert. The usual.

 **27 NOVEMBER 2011**

 **EMMA**

"How's it going today, Gracie?" Emma peeled her cheek away from the table she was on and groaned when most of her cheek got left behind. Story of her life, man.

"Meggie! That makes three times this decade! Things topside not working out for you, huh?" Meg jammed her arm so far up Emma's flayed torso that the fallen hunter felt blunt nails scraping across her sluggishly beating heart.

"Demons working with hunters against angels. My whole world has gone topsy-turvy, but I'll always have you," Meg cooed and then broke off a rib. The splintered bone punctured through a heaving lung, and Emma shook as she tried to pull in a breath that she shouldn't need. What was the point of dying if her soul still thought that she needed oxygen?

"Rumors are true then. Someone's out to overthrow Crowley and spring Lucifer?" She kept forgetting little things about her life. Like her favorite kind of candy or her best school subject. She remembered Crowley though, a little too clearly at times. After all, it was hard for her to forget the demon she sold her soul to.

"Mhmm, and things are starting to get messy." Things other than her torso, because Meg looked delighted at carving out one of her kidneys. Emma felt like some demons just tortured because it was what demons were supposed to do, but Meg treated torture like a fun hobby.

"I thought that was just how you liked it?" Emma asked with a wink. Meg plucked out her left eye and rolled it between her fingers, and she wondered if it was possible to glare with just one eye.

"Messy is fine, but I'm stuck working with the Winchesters. Those two are more likely to kill me than to work with me." _Winchesters_. Something about the name tickled at the edges of a long forgotten memory, but the shadowy images disappeared before she could make sense of them.

"Sounds like a fun partnership. I didn't know you demon bastards were pro-teamwork." This time, Meg's fingers dug past a raw wound in her cheek until she could rip out some molars.

"You'll be a demon one day. All demons start with a deal," Meg whispered into her ear a few minutes later. The ear that she was holding in the palm of her hand. Emma gave up on trying to figure out Hell physics over a century ago.

"And give up the rack? Never."

 **SAM**

 _ **Journal Entry: March 21, 2010**_

 _You'll never guess what I did last night! Go on, give it a guess! Give up? I got to a job before the Winchesters! Unbelievable, right? Those two are_ _GODS_ _in the hunter community, and I actually beat them to the punch. Or to the grave. So what if it was just a simple salt and burn? I'm still counting it as a win. The best part? They're normal. Well, normal for people who kill things for a living. The oldest one, Dean, has a stare that cuts right to the soul. I feel like we're kindred spirits though. When I told them about the deal I made for Ava, I think he understood. I think he might be the only person who understands that I didn't make this deal for me. I made it for the one person I love more than anything else in this world. Despite that, the younger brother, Sam, is definitely my favorite. Dude has the looks of a Greek god, but he's got the eyes of a puppy. He looked like he needed a hug, but hugging strangers is not in my job description._

 _Back on track! I met the Winchesters, and they're just men. They're not gods, which is comforting. So many of the other hunters that I've run across, the gossip queens, hate the Winchesters because of this whole Apocalypse thing. Dean jumpstarted it when he did a no-no in Hell. I'd like to see any of them survive four months in Hell without going bonkers. Then Sam accidentally finished it off and actually started the Apocalypse. So what? I seriously doubt that the friendly giant did it on purpose. Now Lucifer is out and about, and it's the End of Days. So fucking what? For hunters, it's always the End of Days, isn't it? Why does it matter if the Devil is tap dancing across the globe? He's just another monster waiting in line for a bloody ending._

 _We're all going to die someday, right? At least dying in an Apocalypse sounds cooler than choking to death on a hotdog._

Emma Motley was always going to be a mystery to him. Just when he thought he had her all figured out, he would read something that completely surprised him. Sam scrubbed a hand across his face and then slowly retied the journal. He should be sleeping, or researching. Anything more productive than reading a dead hunter's journal. A board creaked, and Sam tensed as he looked up. Daniel was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, with his arms crossed over his plain gray tee shirt. His jacket was missing, and his hair looked messier than usual.

The demon had been hanging around for about three months now, and he moved back and forth between Bobby's house and the Winchesters' newly built home next to Bobby's. He knew the demon also left to do some researching of his own, but he was around more than he wasn't. Despite that, Sam still felt a little shocked whenever he saw the demon. Daniel was definitely the oddest demon that they had ever reluctantly worked with. He had a dry and dark sense of humor, but he was always quick to help them. Meg at least glared and snarled at them, like a demon should when forced into close quarters with a Winchester.

"You should be resting, Sam. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Daniel chided.

The demon was the one that usually reminded him and Dean about little things like sleeping and eating, because they sometimes got forgetful while researching. He was also able to remind them because he never seemed uncomfortable about being around hunters, like most demons. Meg stayed away unless she was called, and Crowley had only put in a few appearances. Sam had hoped he would never see Crowley again after the Non-Apocalypse and after the demon returned Bobby's soul, but life never seemed to work out the way that he expected. There just had to be another world-in-the-balance emergency to force them back into an untrusting partnership.

"Yeah, I know," Sam sighed. Tomorrow they were going after some demons holed up a few hours away, hopefully for a little intel on Belial and Abaddon. So far, they hadn't found any demons who had actually seen the two angels.

"What's keeping you awake this time?" Daniel was a demon, through and through, but he was a friendly demon? He was a nicer demon than most and surprisingly easy to talk to despite Sam's belief that the demon regularly mocked them under the guise of sincerity.

"Just reading an old hunter's journal," he answered. He lightly tapped the front cover of said journal and then traced a finger over the lime green shoelaces.

"A friend?"

"No. Only met her once actually, but she was…she was a good person." Daniel's face shifted in a half-smile as he let his hands fall to his sides, and he pushed off from the doorframe with a shrug.

"Then I am sorry for the loss." Sam thought that the demon was being sincere this time, but he still had a little bit of a crooked smile. "Get some rest, Sam."

"Night, Daniel." Demons didn't really need sleep and only slept if they wanted to, so Sam wasn't really sure what Daniel did while they slept.

Sam turned his lights off and buried himself under his blanket, and he tried not to think about Emma. She died over a year ago, so thinking about her wouldn't do anyone any good. By now, she probably wasn't anything but smoke. Still, she didn't blame him (or Dean) for the Apocalypse. It was refreshing, not being blamed. Even if it was his fault.

 **THE NEXT DAY**

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, which detailed the many sins of Belial, as Dean and Meg walked back into the room. They were both covered in blood up to their elbows with other various splatters, and Dean was dragging a wet towel across his face. The old house they were in had thin walls, so Sam didn't have to use too much imagination to figure out what had happened in the basement. Normally he wanted to be there for the questioning, but he hated watching Dean use the skills that he learned in Hell. The skills he learned from Alastair, who had also been Meg's teacher. Instead of watching, Sam had sat in a giant wingback chair in what passed for a living room with an ancient demon sitting at his feet while his brother and another demon did some torturing in the basement. He should probably be more freaked out, but this was a normal part of his life now.

"Anything useful?" Sam asked. Daniel hummed and flipped to another page in the giant book he was reading, as if the conversation was of no interest to him.

"Nothing," Dean huffed and ran the towel over his arms.

"They're grunts, just like all the others. They've never even see the bosses," Meg clarified. Sam had noticed that after every failed interrogation, Meg looked a little more wound up. At the moment, she was tense and pacing. Dean was just as tense as he scrubbed at his arms to get the blood off.

"Stay calm, Meg. We will eventually find a middle man," Daniel said in a soft voice. The demon was the same height as Dean and had helped to create the first demons. He shouldn't have a soft voice.

"Yeah, well, I'll just have a little fun with your favorite chew toy while we wait." It was said with a slow grin, and Sam watched as Daniel slowly lifted his head and _growled_ at the female demon.

"She's been through enough without suffering through your inadequacies," the normally calm demon bit out. Meg's sharp laugh was cold and echoed in the mostly empty room.

"My inadequacies? It's your old buddies we're hunting down. Shouldn't you be able to find them?"

"You know they don't like me very much." The older demon was back to his usual relaxed self, speech casual and tone light, and Meg was back to pacing.

"It's been over two thousand years," Meg said and cut her eyes over at Daniel.

"Angels are very good at holding at holding grudges," Daniel said and flipped to a new page.

"Why don't they like you?" Sam asked before Meg could say something else.

"After we lost the war and Lucifer was thrown into the Cage, Belial wanted to keep fighting. Abaddon always agreed with Belial, but I didn't see the point. Only a handful of the first demons remained, and none of us were very strong after fighting in a war for so long. Lucifer was locked away until the Apocalypse, and I was tired of fighting. So I stood down and confined myself to Hell. Belial and Abaddon fought on, and they were sealed on Earth by Michael. I assume it's taken them this long to get free, and I can only image how upset they were after learning that the Apocalypse started and failed before they had a chance to join in."

"You're a sorry excuse for a demon," Meg threw out.

"Perhaps I'm getting rusty in my old age," Daniel sighed.

Sam was still going over all the new information. Something about Daniel's tone was a little too carefree. After spending the past few months with the demon regularly hanging around, he'd picked up on little things about him. Whenever Daniel talked about events that he had been personally involved in, the regret that colored his words was perfectly clear. He never talked about the war casually, so something was definitely off. Sam just couldn't figure out what.

"What about your angelic lover? Can't he lend a hand?" Meg asked and looked over at Dean. Sam pulled himself out of his circling thoughts to watch Dean's reaction, which was to glare at Meg. Sam hadn't seen Cas since the day he was saved from falling into the Cage, but Dean had seen the angel a few times. Normally only for a minute or two, according to Dean. Just quick updates on the state of Heaven, like how Michael had started running it properly with Cas as his second in command.

"Cas is—" A very loud flutter of wings cut off whatever Dean was about to say, and both demons instantly tensed up. Sam could see the way that Daniel seemed to curl in on himself at Sam's feet, and he could see Meg from the corner of his eye holding herself like she was prepared to run. Cas was standing in the center of the room, in the same suit and trench coat as always, but he wasn't alone.

"What the hell is this?!" Dean had dropped the towel to grab one of his many knives, but he slowly returned it to the inside of his jacket once he realized that it was Cas was in the room. Cas never looked away from Dean, but the angel next to him slowly surveyed the room. Sam assumed it was another angel anyway.

"I am Michael," the other angel answered as his gaze finally stopped on them.

"And what poor bastard are you wearin' this time?!" Dean asked. It was a good question, because Sam didn't recognize the vessel. He thought, maybe, that he could recognize Michael though. There was something familiar about the way that he held himself, like he was right where he was meant to be in this moment.

"This is the vessel of Joseph Kline. I—"

"So you're ruining some other innocent dude's life now?" Dean quickly interrupted. Michael stared straight ahead at Dean, and Sam straightened up a little in his seat to see how Michael would react. After a moment, Michael glanced over at Cas. Their angelic friend nodded, just once, and Michael made sure that he could see Dean and Sam as he explained.

"Joseph Kline had no family and moved around aimlessly. He was working on someone's roof for money when he fell. The fall left him in a coma, and I came to him in the hospital. In exchange for using his vessel, I gave his soul passage into Heaven." He definitely sounded like Michael. There was a kind of quiet command in his deep tone that he seemed to hold onto no matter which vessel he was in.

"You just _released_ his soul?" Dean sounded skeptical, and the feeling was mutual with Sam. They both knew that the humans locked in vessels and meat suits were usually forced to watch as other beings used their bodies.

"Only archangels have the ability, and he was never going to wake from the coma. I freed him, and his vessel is just strong enough to contain my grace." That explained why the vessel didn't look like it was falling apart, like Lucifer's vessel. _Like Nick_.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked as he crossed his arms. His brother was making a point of looking at Michael and avoiding Cas, which only helped confirm Sam's suspicions about his brother being in love with the angel.

"We have come to ask for a favor," Michael said with a bowed head. It was so unlike the Michael that he remembered and even less like the Michael he'd heard about. The most powerful archangel was _asking_ for a favor?

"And why should we help you? In case you haven't noticed, we're a little busy down here trying to keep the Apocalypse from starting up again!" Yelling at angels was never a good idea, archangels even less so, but Dean was special. Not just because he was the Righteous Man or whatever either.

"Yes, we are aware, and we have come to help. Raphael has agreed to tend to Heaven in our absence, and we will do whatever is necessary to help you. First, before we can help, Castiel and I have something that we must do. Another angel will join you until we return." First they had demons working with them, and now they were going to have angels helping them out too?

"What's the favor?" Michael and Cas looked at each other before turning as one to look at Dean. It was a little creepy. (It was very creepy.)

"I need you to return to Elysian Fields and retrieve Gabriel's vessel," Michael said quietly. Was the soft voice an angel thing? No, that couldn't be right, because Cas's voice sounded like gravel.

"Why do you need his vessel?" Sam heard himself ask out loud. It'd been over a year and a half since Gabriel died, so why get the vessel now? Michael met Cas's eyes, and the supposedly subordinate angel nodded his head to another silent question. Michael looked at Sam first, briefly glanced at Dean, and then looked at the floor between his feet.

"We have located his grace." It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and Sam distantly heard the book in his hands creaking as his knuckles turned white. They had found Gabriel's grace?

"Where?" Apparently, Sam was the first to recover.

"How?" Now Dean was able to talk again.

"We believe that when Lucifer stabbed Gabriel, his grace was able to escape before being fully pierced. It must have latched onto the first suitable vessel," Cas explained. It was good to hear the angel's rough voice. Sam was starting to think he'd never hear it again.

"I thought he needed permission," Sam pointed out. Angels always needed permission.

"Someone must have said yes, but we don't know who," Michael said with a cautious look between the brothers.

"Just spit it out already!" Dean was getting impatient and somehow still not getting smited by angels, and the atmosphere in the room was so tense that Sam was starting to develop a headache.

"As far as we can tell, Gabriel's grace is inside Hell. Sam, do you remember the light?" Michael asked and turned to face Sam directly. Against Sam's leg, he could feel Daniel tensing so much that it felt like a statue was sitting next to him.

"When we were thrown out? Yeah, I remember it." Sam wasn't sure if he would ever be able to forget that light; it was getting closer to two years since everything had happened, and he was still dreaming about the way it had burned his eyes.

"I believe that was Gabriel's grace, and that he was the one that saved us from Lucifer's fate. Daniel, did you witness it?" The ancient demon wrapped his arms around his upraised knees and leaned slightly to the side so that his shoulder pressed against Sam's knee.

"Nearly all of Hell witnessed it. Several of the lesser demons were completely burned out," Daniel quietly explained.

"Do you know who it came from?" Daniel slowly shook his head in answer to Michael's question and rubbed his palms across his shins.

"The light came from a grouping of souls on the racks, down in the Pit. They were each split up and interrogated separately, but it was never determined which soul the light came from." Daniel spoke quietly and somewhat robotically, as if he was reading from a script, and he didn't look away from his knees.

"Crowley has agreed to escort us through Hell, but it will take us time to sort through all of the souls. It would be a great help if Gabriel's vessel was already recovered when we returned," Michael said. His voice was quiet and the phrasing was careful, but there was still a hint of command laced through the words. He had looked around at all of them but was now focused solely on Daniel, who was still looking at his own knees. Sam knew that most demons were afraid of angels, but Daniel wouldn't even make eye contact with the archangel. Which made sense, in a way. Daniel was an angel once. An angel that stood with Lucifer against Michael and was one of the first angels to become a demon, so he thought he could understand why Daniel was so tense.

"We'll be at Bobby's," Dean said and effectively broke Michael's focus.

"Castiel, fetch Balthazar." After a quick look at Dean, Cas disappeared with a flutter of wings. "Castiel will meet you at Bobby's with the angel that will be assisting you. Daniel, I hope you remain with them."

"I will, Michael." The archangel disappeared like Cas did a moment before, and the room seemed a little airier now that it was angel-free. It was definitely easier to breathe. Daniel and Meg both relaxed a small fraction, and Sam's mind was jumping all over the place.

"Sonofabitch!" Which just about summed it all up.

 **•X•**

 **Finis:** Another chapter down! There's little hints of what's coming up, so I hope you're as excited as I am for all of the fun things that'll be happening soon. If there's any questions about anything, I'd be more than happy to answer them. Thank you for reading!

 **SakiHanajima1:** I hope you liked this chapter! There's still some snarky Emma and a lot more Daniel, so I hope it was fun to read! Also, this chapter wouldn't have been posted now without you, so thank you so much! Thank you for your constant support and for leaving lovely reviews.

 **agent-jawa:** Oh no! Hearts skipping beats isn't good, but I'm happy to hear that you were excited to see an update! I promise, Emma will see Sam and Dean again very soon. Aw, thank you! I love Emma, so it makes me super happy to know that you like her so much too! Thank you for reading and for reviewing!

 **Paigetcute:** Thank you so much for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter as well!


	4. Nothing Makes Sense Here

**WF:** The editing process is going very well, thanks to the wonderful **SakiHanajima1's** support and motivation, so updates should continue at regular intervals. For people who like imagining visuals, these are my face claims for the characters that have been introduced so far.

Emma: Kat Dennings  
Daniel: Nathaniel Buzolic  
Michael: Chris Evans

 **Warning:** I know this might sound like a broken record, but Emma is still in Hell so there's still some slightly graphic torture scenes. If reading them makes you uncomfortable, please skip those scenes and send me a message so I can tell you the important details of the scene.

 **Summary:** Emma is really getting tired of all the Hell weirdness and maybe receives some good news.  
Sam ponders on the important questions of the universe, like the state of his brother's love life and angel-demon dynamics.

 **Post Date:** 06 July 2019

 **Word Count:** 8610

 _Am I gonna swim, am I gonna sink?  
_ _Am I gonna bend, am I gonna break?  
_ _Will I make it out alive?  
_ _Make it out alive?  
_ _ **Will I Make It Out Alive by Jessie Early & Tommee Profitt**_

 **•X•**

 **CHAPTER FOUR  
** **NOTHING MAKES SENSE HERE**

 **29 NOVEMBER 2011**

 **EMMA**

"Sweet little Emma. Do you remember me?" Her remaining eye struggled to open and then rolled around uselessly before finally finding the source of that day's taunting torturer. A tall female with long black hair and sparkling green eyes.

"Did I kill you or kiss you?" It was difficult for her to smile with half of her bottom lip ripped off, but she'd learned how to work around everything over the years. A soft hand traced up her sternum before resting over her throat, and she pushed up into the sharp nails that dug into her skin.

"Both." Emma's laughing scream blended in with all of the others as another demon got its revenge.

 **SAM**

"Dean." Sam looked away from the dusty book he was reading at the sound of a rumbling voice, and he watched the way that Dean's shoulders curled forwards as he tensed up. One day, his brother was going to realize that he was completely gone for the angel and put all the unnecessary tension to rest. That being said, now wasn't the best time to psychoanalyze his brother. Daniel was once again sitting at his feet and leaning back against the side of the chair that Sam was settled in, and Meg was long gone. Bobby was at his desk and just glaring around the room at all of them, probably wondering why they were all in his house when Sam and Dean had their own house just next door.

"These two are the great heroes that stopped the Apocalypse?" Another angel was standing next to Cas and looking around at all of them, and Sam assumed this was the angel that Michael sent to help them with Gabriel's vessel. His vessel was around the same height as Cas but looked older, and he looked all-around different from Cas. His black slacks and blazer actually fit him, for one, and he was wearing a really deep v-neck which was a sharp contrast to Cas's baggy suit.

"This guy is an angel?" Dean shot back.

"You must be Dean," the angel said and glared at him before swinging around to look at Sam. "So that makes you Sam, yes?"

He had a distinctive British accent, which made Sam wonder if all angels kept the accents of their vessels. Did they have the same traits as their vessels too? If Jimmy had been left-handed, would Cas be left-handed? Sam was still thinking it over when he realized that the other angel had moved his gaze down, and Sam felt his brows draw together until he realized the angel was glaring at Daniel and not at Sam's boots. Did this angel know Daniel too?

"This is Balthazar. He will help you locate Gabriel's vessel and tend to it until we return," Cas told Dean. That was unfair. Cas was speaking to all of them, but he was only looking at Dean as he talked.

"Yes, tend to it, like it's some great bloody honor. Next time, remind me to hide when Michael starts handing out rewards," Balthazar huffed. Sam was starting to get the feeling that they were doing more than just going to pick up a body. Cas glanced over at Balthazar, just for a moment, before turning back to look at Dean.

"We will return as soon as possible." Right after saying the words, Cas was gone. Sam watched the way that the muscle in Dean's jaw ticked in frustration and then locked his teeth together to stop himself from laughing. This was a very serious situation. Two ancient evil angels were out to jumpstart the Apocalypse and free Lucifer, demons were causing a ruckus all over the place, and two other angels were marching into Hell to recover the grace of an archangel. Now wasn't the time to laugh about his brother's relationship issues.

"Well, boys, you should get going. Ya got a long trip ahead, and take both of your pets with you!" Bobby snapped.

"What am I? A bloody parrot?" Balthazar asked loudly.

"Perhaps I should stay here and help you research?" Daniel asked quietly.

"Scared of an angel, demon boy?" Sam cut his eyes over at his brother, because that wasn't fair. Daniel might not be the holiest being out there, but Sam got the sense that Daniel truly regretted the things he'd done. Being around another angel was probably uncomfortable, since he used to be one.

"Daniel isn't scared of me. Not since we're all on the same side now." Daniel seemed to pull back a little at the words, as if trying to withdraw further into himself, but he didn't say anything or even look up. Balthazar rolled his eyes at the lack of a reaction and then crossed his arms with a huff, and Dean raised a brow as he looked between the angel and the demon.

"All of ya, quit your bitchin' and get movin'! There's an archangel out there dependin' on ya! The poor bastard." Daniel and Balthazar briefly locked eyes before looking at opposite sides of the room, Sam sighed and let his shoulders slump before getting to his feet, and Dean threw his arms in the air before stalking off. This was probably not going to end well.

 **THE NEXT DAY**

 **EMMA**

"What did you stop for?" Emma asked breathlessly. She was only partially skinned, just her legs really, and Meg normally didn't stop until all of her skin and a few organs were missing.

"You can't hear it?" Her ears strained to hear anything, but it was just more of the usual. Laughing demons and screaming souls.

"All I hear are screams. Spidey senses tingling?" A strip of skin over her ribcage was ripped off, and Emma nearly bit her tongue in half to keep from adding her own scream into the mix.

"Sounds like Crowley has his hands full with some rioting demons. Serves him right for bringing angels here." Emma wiggled around a bit as she let that sink in, and if she didn't know better she'd think the rolling sensation in her stomach was hope. (She had no reason to be hopeful though, because she was in Hell where she belonged.) Angels in Hell? Better yet, angels in the Pit? She might be hopeless, but it looked like things were finally starting to get interesting.

 **SAM**

"Shouldn't he be a bit more, I don't know, decomposed?" Dean asked as they stood in front of the body.

Someone had taken the time to bury Gabriel's vessel in the middle of nowhere underneath a beautiful tree, and they had been able to dig it up without any problems. (Sam and Dean had dug the body up, while Daniel watched silently and Balthazar gave them instructions on how to shovel dirt properly.) Sam wasn't really sure how Balthazar had been able to track the vessel, but he had a feeling that Dean's comment about bloodhounds wasn't too far off the mark. Not that Sam had sided with Dean in that argument, because the angel had a very icy glare. Dean had a point this time too, even though Sam decided to keep that to himself as the angel stared his brother down. Instead, he looked at the empty vessel in front of his feet. Gabriel's vessel looked like he could've died minutes ago instead of nearly two years.

"Gabriel was inhabiting a true vessel imbued with a couple of millennium's worth of pagan power," Daniel answered quietly. Balthazar was busy wrapping the body in a blanket after using some angel mojo to clean all of the dirt off.

"Huh," was all Dean had to say as the brothers worked to refill the hole. So Gabriel's pagan powers had kept his vessel from decomposing or even becoming damaged. Had Gabriel been able to use those pagan powers when he fought against Lucifer to help him escape? Was that why his grace was able to escape before he was killed? There were so many questions without answers. Not yet, at least.

"What happens next?" Sam asked Balthazar as they walked back to the car. The angel was carefully holding the wrapped body in his arms, like it would break if he slipped.

"We get him to a safe place, and I'll work on preparing the body for Gabriel's grace. It's been damaged, so it'll take some time." Balthazar answered the question without a hint of sarcasm in his tone, so that was some progress.

"Why you? Out of all the angels?" Up ahead, Sam watched as Daniel's shoulders tightened. The demon continued talking to Dean, but he was holding himself stiffly.

"I was Gabriel's entrusted general, before he ran away from home." That, actually, made a little bit of sense. Sam could picture the sarcastic angel and Gabriel as friends.

"And Daniel?" Balthazar slowly looked over at Sam and pointedly raised a brow, but Sam just shrugged. He had already asked, so it wasn't like he could take the question back.

"You'll have to ask him that."

 **EMMA**

"How long has it been, Gracie?" The few demon riots had been quieted, and Emma was sorely missing the distraction that the unruly demons had provided. Now that the little riots were over, the torturers were getting creative again. Eh, at least she was suffering for a demon's definition of art.

"Two weeks," she managed to answer. Two weeks of hanging from a ceiling with hooks in her ankles and slowly spinning in a continuous circle. Her head should've popped off days ago, but that was Hell logic for you. _Nothing makes sense here_ , was Emma's usual way of explaining it.

A large hand tangled in her hair and yanked her head back to expose her throat, and a rusty blade cut into the stretched skin and nearly chopped her head off. Emma watched with wide dark eyes as her blood spilled onto the floor, except that wasn't the floor. It wasn't the sound of thick liquid on hard stone. There was a quiet echoing pop as the blood fell and then later a soft sloshing sound, and she tightened her shoulders as she flexed her spine so that she could get a better look. There was a small silver tub situated under her hanging body, and it was placed just right to catch the small flood of blood that was erupting from her throat. It reminded her of the old tin tubs that people washed clothes in, she thought she could remember bright flowers spilling over the rim of a tin tub just like the one under her, but her tub was being filled with all of the blood that had been previously coursing through her veins. She would never get over how much blood the human body had, but she knew that a lot more than the usual amount was pouring out of her. Again, Hell logic.

When the tub was half full, the demon stitched her up with a rusty needle and used some skin stripped from her back as thread. It didn't make any sense, but that was her new reality. Once the rip in her throat was closed, the hooks in her ankles were ripped out. Her bare body hit the hard ground, and she groaned as she felt the now broken bones in her face shifting. She didn't have a lot of time to just lay around though, because the demon grabbed another handful of her hair and yanked her up onto her knees. Her poor, poor knees. The memories of her time topside were so faint now, but she knew that her knees had always been bruised and scraped. Here, in Hell, was no different. Well, when she _had_ knees. The demon drug her across the floor until she was kneeling in front of the tub now filled with her blood, and she lost a little hair when she twisted her head to look up at him and grin.

"Am I bobbing for apples?" The demon returned the grin, tightened his grip on her hair, and forced her head down into the tub. Fingers scrambled against the edge of the tub, slicing them to the bone as she fought, and her legs blindly kicked out as she tried to lift her head from the tub. She was drowning in her own blood.

Drowning…drowning…drowning…dr—

 **SAM**

 _ **Journal Entry: May 02, 2010**_

 _What are people supposed to do on their last day on Earth? Should I gorge myself on chocolate until I'm so full that I can't breathe? Should I get so drunk that I won't be able to feel the hellhound's teeth? Should I go find one last lay and enjoy one of life's simple pleasures one last time?_

 _Well, I'm not going to do any of that. I am eating a Hershey bar, because I can't die without one more Hershey bar. I'm not going to get drunk or laid though. Getting hammered won't help me forget that I'm about to die, and I'm not about to start having one night stands this late in the game. I'm not even going to kill one last monster, because I'm done with that. No, I'm going to do the one thing that I really want to do. I'm going to sit on this uncomfortable metal bleacher, surrounded by soccer moms and crying babies, and I'm going to watch a bunch of little kids play softball. Because I am not going to die without seeing Ava one last time, and she looks so_ _happy_ _. Her team is winning and, not to brag, but I'm sure that Ava's two homeruns and three outfield catches have something to do with it._

 _I should be scared, right? By this time tomorrow, I'll be gone. I'll barely even be a memory, because who will remember me? My only friends are hunters that are used to losing people and know better than to mourn for too long, and Ava doesn't know me. I am so completely okay with that though. I don't want anyone to mourn me, and I think that's what makes this so easy. I'm saving someone without hurting anyone. Win-win, right? You know what else? It's a beautiful day. The sky is blue, it's warm without being hot, and it smells like spring. So what if I'm about to die? My little sister is healthy, and there's a cloud over the softball field that looks like a bunny. It's the little things in life._

There was a small doodle of a fluffy rabbit at the bottom of the page, and Sam let his fingers trace it for a moment. It was Emma's last journal entry, dated the day that she died. Behind the last page were two pictures taped to the inside of the cover, and he took a minute to just look at them. The top picture showed a woman with hair such a light brown color that it nearly looked blonde, and she was holding a baby in one arm so that her other arm could wrap around a young teenage girl's shoulders. Emma, her mother, and her little sister. The second picture was of a young girl, maybe five or six, building a sandcastle on the beach. Her hair was the same color as her birth mother's, and she was laughing. This was the little sister that Emma gave her soul for. The little sister that she checked up on over the years. (Sam knew that Emma had checked up on her, because the journal was filled with small passages about Ava's life. Little things from a new favorite toy to winning an ice cream in a spelling bee.)

He was a little sad about finishing the journal. Emma Motley had been a good person and a really good hunter. A lot of hunters hardened over the years, and Sam got that. He really did. A person could only see so many mangled bodies and kill so many different things before the life started to take its toll. Emma, despite all of that, had managed to hold onto the simplest things in life. Some of her entries were dark, like finding a vamp nest filled with small broken bodies. The entry right after went into deep detail over the delicious goodness of some kind of ice cream cookie. (Emma's words, not Sam's.) She had looked for the good things instead of becoming a pessimist, which didn't mean she hadn't been a realist. Her entries were blunt and honest, but there was a balance. He hated the thought of her roasting in Hell. A soul like hers belonged in Heaven.

"You must really like that book." Sam jumped and had to scramble to keep the journal from falling off his lap, and he looked up through his hair after managing to keep the journal from hitting the floor. Daniel was standing in his doorway, with his hair flat on one side and his jacket missing. Sam carefully closed the journal and tied it up again, and then he gave his full attention to Daniel.

"It's a good read. Where are Dean and Balthazar?" They were back _home_ , which was a change that Sam was still adjusting to. Because, for the first time since he was six months old, Sam had an actual home. With guest bedrooms, a library, and even a shed out back that was actually a supernatural panic room.

"Dean is sleeping, and Balthazar is with Gabriel in one of the guest rooms." They had split up as soon as they got to the house, and that was a few hours ago. Sam had been in his room, and he hadn't kept track of everyone else. Daniel shifted a little and recaptured Sam's attention, and the demon drug a hand through the flat side of his hair and effectively messed it up again.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" Daniel opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and then moved farther into the room. Sam expected him to sit beside him on the bed when he stepped closer, but the scruffy demon folded his legs and dropped to the ground like he usually did instead. Brown eyes looked up at him as fingers drummed against his unlaced boots, and Sam decided not to push. The demon would talk when he was ready.

"I haven't been in an angel's presence in years. Over two thousand, at least. When Lucifer was freed from his Cage, I hid." He paused to pull at his hair for a moment and then sighed as he looked up at Sam. "Michael was my older brother, and I stood against him in battle. I know that Michael feels betrayed by how far I've fallen, for losing my grace, but I have no one to blame but myself. As for Balthazar, we were once very close. Now he is just another brother that I have let down."

"So you're not scared of them?" Dean was the one that asked earlier, but Daniel never answered.

"Scared? Maybe. There's nothing stopping them from smiting me, is there? Mostly it just hurts to look at them. They're so _bright_ ," Daniel whispered. Huh, it looked like angels and demons really could see more than humans.

"For what it's worth, I don't think any of them want to kill you." Sam hadn't sensed any hatred in Michael's stare, and Balthazar used the same sarcastic tone with Daniel as he did with the rest of them.

"You should get some more rest, Sam. We'll all need to be ready when Michael and Castiel return." The demon fluidly got to his feet and smiled one last time before leaving the room. The Winchester houseguests were a polite demon, a sarcastic angel, and an empty archangel's vessel. The world was a weird place.

 **11 JANUARY 2012**

 **EMMA**

"Eligos, baby, things not going your way?" The demon looked up from where he was slowly sawing off her right leg, one slow agonizing cut at a time, and she shifted her face into a sympathetic pout. "I feel like you're not putting that much effort into this. Has the fire in our relationship already gone out?"

Claws drug up her thighs as Eligos straightened, and the eyes she was looking into were pure black. For her, Eligos was a regular. Whenever he was in a mood, he sought her out. For one of the ugliest demons she had ever seen, he was usually a good conversationalist. Great at trading insults while he carved her up. He'd been quiet since he popped in though. She wasn't worried about his emotional state, but she was worried about whatever was causing it. Because something that could upset one of the higher-ranking demons in the Pit? That was something to worry about.

"I really hope it isn't you, Gracie. I'd miss these little dates of ours," Eligos hissed. Since she was chained to an upright table, the demon's forked tongue brushed against her chin.

"Hope what isn't—" Her question was cut off as she screamed, because Eligos had used his brute strength to finish ripping off her right leg. Her body strained against the chains holding her to the table, but the struggle was pointless. She was trapped. She was always trapped.

 **SAM**

"Hey, Balthazar, you okay?" Sam was standing in the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, and feeling a little exposed. It was the middle of the night, and Daniel usually stayed in the basement library while the rest of the house slept so Sam hadn't thought to grab a shirt before coming down to the kitchen. He definitely hadn't been expecting to run into Balthazar, who hadn't been seen outside of the guest room where Gabriel's body was. Sam wasn't sure what Balthazar had been doing with the vessel, because he hadn't looked into the guest room.

"I think I'm hungry," the angel said with a confused look at his stomach. He was still fully dressed (shoes, jackets, the works) but his blonde hair was sticking up.

"I thought angels didn't eat?" The only time Sam ever saw Cas eat was when he was affected by Famine, and he hadn't seen Balthazar anywhere near the kitchen in the month that he'd been in the house.

"We don't, but I have been expending a _lot_ of energy on Gabriel's vessel. Please tell me that you have something edible in here." Balthazar pushed past him to get to the refrigerator, and Sam stumbled back to lean against a counter as he watched the angel pull out ingredients for something. (At first, Sam had been confused about why Dean designed a big kitchen when neither of them ever really cooked. As it turned out, his big brother was a really good cook. Like, really good. So the kitchen stayed very well-stocked because Dean got in moods sometimes and just started cooking. Like the time he made a soufflé at three in the morning, because of reasons. He still hadn't elaborated on the reasons.)

"Sammy! Where the hell—there you are! What are you doin' in my kitchen?!" Sam was going to get mental whiplash. Dean was standing in the kitchen doorway, in the same gray sweatpants he went to sleep in and a black tee shirt, and Cas was standing just behind him in his trusty suit. Sam was starting to feel a little underdressed in just his red flannel sleep pants.

"I'm hungry," Balthazar explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. Which it kind of was. Why else would the angel be cracking eggs over at the stove?

"Have I missed anything?" Daniel asked quietly as he moved around Dean and Cas in the doorway. The demon was also fully dressed, and Sam was tempted to sneak past Dean to go find a shirt.

"We have located the correct soul. Michael is reconstructing her body as we speak," Cas answered. Reconstructing her body? Did that mean Cas reconstructed Dean's body when he raised him from perdition? (Sam was never going to let Dean live that one down. _Never_.)

"It took you over a month to find 'em?" Dean asked.

"We were met with a riot. Order had to be restored before we could resume our search," was Cas's straight-to-the-point explanation.

"Isn't Hell always chaotic?" Four pairs of eyes turned to Sam as the question slipped out of him, and he fidgeted a bit under the combined weight of the stares and crossed his arms over his bare chest. So he was the only one who hadn't been fully introduced to Hell? Good to know.

"There is some order to our chaos. I imagine having two powerful angels in Hell upset a few of the demons, especially the ones already angry at Crowley?" Daniel looked away from Sam after explaining and over at Cas, who so far was the only angel that met the demon's eyes without emotion and spoke easily with him.

"You are correct. They were easy to defeat, but the sheer number took some time to get through. Michael and the vessel should arrive at any moment, and they will both be very weak." Sam nodded absently at the news, because it made sense. Cas was looking a little worn down as well, and he didn't even have to spend the energy to reconstruct a body this time.

"Which soul was it?" Daniel asked after a moment. Cas's head tilted in confusion at the question, and Sam watched as the angel's expression slowly evened out.

"Gabriel's grace is inside the soul of Emma Motley." It couldn't be the same person, could it? Recognition of the name was written all over Daniel's face, so did he know her?

"Emmaline Grace Motley?" Sam's eyes flickered over to Dean as he asked the question, but Dean was looking at Cas as if he was trying to figure out if he was hearing things. Which meant that Dean did recognize the name. Cas glanced at Dean, surprisingly briefly, before settling his gaze on Sam.

"Yes."

 **EMMA**

It was quiet, except for the constant distant screams. Whatever. Those were just part of the background at this point and barely worth noting. For now, Emma was going to enjoy the relative silence while she could. Eligos disappeared a few minutes ago, right in the middle of amputation, but Emma wasn't going to beg him to come back. She took a moment to assess her body and see what was what, because she didn't have anything else to occupy her mind while she waited. A thick chain was wrapped around her neck with another one around her stomach, somewhere in the bellybutton area, to keep her secured to the upright table. Both of her legs were gone, one ripped off while the other was sawed off in small increments, and her left arm was gone as well. Her right arm was stretched above her head, and a hook going through her wrist kept her from moving it. Lovely.

"Ah, Gracie, how are things?" She sighed a little and then slowly opened her eyes. She'd know that voice anywhere; it was the voice that promised her that her little sister would live a long and healthy life, and all Emma had to do was give up her soul.

"Crowley, o' benevolent one, it's been a while. Too busy to come say hello these days? Oh, and you brought friends! Do they get off on chopping people up too?" The two men standing behind the King of Hell exchanged a glance before turning as one to look at her. Once upon a time, Emma might have felt a little embarrassed about being so exposed in front of someone that she wasn't in a relationship with. Seeing as how she only had one remaining limb, however, modesty wasn't really an issue. Hadn't really been an issue in a while because she'd been naked for _centuries_. Still, the strangers were both pretty. Both tall and strong looking, with thick hair and pretty eyes, and she had just been recently dismembered. At least she hadn't been scalped yet.

"They've come to ask a few questions, and I do apologize for neglecting you. Sources tell me that Meg has been keeping you company in my absence," Crowley said with a slow smile. Emma rolled her eyes with a quiet huff and then focused her gaze on the newcomers.

"Ask away." The taller one stepped forward while the dark-haired one stayed next to where Crowley was standing, and Emma locked her eyes with the taller one as he stopped a good ways away from her. What? Was he afraid that she'd bite?

"How long have you been here?" His quiet voice reminded her of Daniel. He didn't have the British accent, but his low deep tone was almost soothing. Like Daniel's. She'd really missed Daniel for the past few decades.

"A little over two hundred years." Two centuries on the rack. It wasn't a record breaker, but Emma was pretty proud of herself. The man nodded, almost absently, and took another step closer to her. The second man was still standing in the same place, next to Crowley, but he was only an afterthought as she focused on the man in front of her.

"That's very impressive. You were a hunter?" Emma followed his eyes and looked down at her right ribcage. With all of the dismemberment and being routinely burned alive, she had almost forgotten about the tattoos on her ribcage. The dark swirling mass took up her right ribcage from her armpit to the top of her thigh, and there was barely even a glimpse of pale skin under all of the dark ink. There were all kinds of symbols mixed in, all for protection, and the different symbols and sigils were from a variety of different sources.

"Yes, I was. Protection symbols, anti-detection, anti-possession, anti-cursing, the works. The ink was mixed with holy water and the blood of a virgin, but no virgins were harmed for my kickass artwork. Oh, and I nearly forgot my devil's traps…Well, trap." Emma twisted her right hand around to show her scarred palm, which had a deep devil's trap carved into it.

"My boys hated those," Crowley said with an air of amusement.

"Explains why they keep chopping my hands off then," Emma said and attempted to shrug. Carving into her palms had been beyond painful, but it had been effective. As long as she was touching a demon, it couldn't smoke out while she exorcised. Rigging one up took too much time sometimes.

"Something is hiding in a soul down here, and we have been searching for it." So many years ago, there was a bright light. It was so bright that it had burned, but it had been so beautiful.

"The light." Clear blue eyes met hers as the man slowly nodded, and Emma sucked in a breath. She wasn't sure if she needed the extra air because he had confirmed her suspicions or if because he had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. "What do you need?"

"I just need to search your soul. It will be painful, but brief." He talked in an even tone, not gleefully like her usual torturers did, and she let herself smile.

"I'm in Hell. Pain is a given. Do whatever you need to, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere." The man's full lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped directly in front of her, and Emma dipped her chin to look down and meet his eyes. It was nice to look down at someone for a change. Especially someone who would definitely be taller than her if she wasn't chained to a vertical table.

"Try to hold still. It will be less painful that way." Emma nodded, and the man looked away from her eyes to look at the middle of her torso.

A big hand gripped her hip just as the other one plunged into her stomach, and the back of her head knocked against the table. It wasn't the first time that a hand had ripped its way into her torso, but he wasn't going for internal organs. No, he was going _past_ that somehow. He was actually rooting around her soul, and she was burning from the inside out. Her lungs caught fire as she screamed against the pain, but she still had just enough sense to force her muscles to lock into place. After what felt like another two centuries, the man pulled his hand free. Emma let her legless body relax, and her head sagged forward as she looked down at the man who just spent time poking at her mushy bits.

"It's you." Emma couldn't read the look in his sparkling blue eyes, and she didn't even know that eyes could actually do _that_ outside of cheesy rom-coms and Disney movies. He was still gripping her left hip, his hand felt so warm compared to the icy chill in the room, and he was just staring up at her with an unreadable expression.

"Should've known it'd be you, Gracie. Resistant little Gracie. Daniel will be so proud." Emma tore her eyes away from the man to look at Crowley. He looked a little proud himself, which was kind of terrifying.

"Did I win a chicken dinner?" Crowley just smiled indulgently, and the man standing at his side tilted his head in confusion. Her humor was lost on people down here. It was so unfair.

"How did you say yes? How did he have the time to ask for permission?" the man asked her. Yeah, this was all going over her head. The hand that was just plundering her soulful depths raised to cup her cheek, and she couldn't stop herself from turning her face towards the warmth. "May I?"

"Will this hurt too?" she asked with a quirk of her lips. Not that it really mattered. She was a torso with one arm, so what was a little more pain?

"No, this won't hurt. I would just like to see." He had asked, but she felt like she didn't have much of a choice. Not that it mattered, because she didn't want to turn him down.

"Have at it." Emma felt a finger press against her temple and then everything went dark.

• **X•**

 _ **Journal Entry: April 29, 2010**_

 _I had the weirdest dream last night. One minute I'm running from the pissed off ghost that took forever to take out last night, and the next I run into a wall of light. Yeah, I know that light isn't solid like a wall that can be run into, but dreams are weird like that. Want to know how it gets even weirder? The light started talking! At least, I think it talked. I got the feeling that it was trying to talk. Whatever the light was, it needed my help. It was dying, and I had to save it. So you know how you're supposed to walk towards the light and let it in? That's exactly what I did. I'm not a dream expert or anything, but I think my subconscious is freaking out about my impending death. Three days and counting._

• **X•**

"He came to you in a dream, and you said yes," the guy in front of her said quietly. She thought that he might have been looking at her, but she was still trying to blink away the hazy memory and the lingering fuzziness of her eyesight.

Now that she had been shown the memory, all of it came rushing back. A routine salt and burn had gone sideways, and she spent two hours running herself ragged through a condemned house trying to find a locket with some hair in it. Once the damned ghost was finally put to rest, Emma passed out in the back of her bus. There had been a storm outside that night, and the rain had been falling so heavily that she'd had to park on the side of some back road and wait it out. Normally she was too paranoid to sleep while parked on the side of a road in the open, but she had been exhausted that night. The only good thing about hard hunts was how she always got the deepest kind of sleep afterwards, and she had slept hard that night.

"What'd I say yes to, exactly?" Emma asked as her vision finally cleared. Crowley and the silent guy were still staring at her, both in confusion this time, and the other man was looking up at her in awe. Along with a little bit of confusion. Everyone was confused, including her.

"For an angel to enter a vessel, they must be given permission. My brother was dying and needed somewhere to hide, and you sheltered him." She heard the individual words but couldn't put them into a context that made sense. Angel? Vessel? Shelter?

"Are you saying there's an angel hiding out in my soul somewhere?" If her voice cracked on the word _angel_ , the three men in the room didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes," he answered simply. Like any of this was simple?

"Well, he picked the wrong soul." The man nodded a bit at that, absently, but he kept his hands pressed against her hip and cheek.

"Yes, he is still very weak."

"This angel have a name?"

"Gabriel." Emma almost felt like puking, and her whole body flashed with heat despite the iciness of the room. An archangel had been hiding out in her soul? The poor bastard. He came to her for help, and she dragged him into Hell right along with her. In her defense though, she hadn't realized that her weird dream had actually been real.

"Archangel Gabriel?" The man nodded, just a small dip of his chin without breaking eye contact, and her tongue swiped across her dry lips. "And who are you?"

"My name is Michael." Another one? Emma looked away from the _archangel_ that was still touching her and over to meet Crowley's eyes.

"This isn't some special kind of torture, is it? Because if it is, I'd like to go back to being ripped to shreds." Whatever this was, it was beyond cruel. Being offered a chance to stop feeling pain was easy to decline, because the only way the pain stopped was if she started torturing people instead. This, being told that an archangel was trapped inside of her soul, was almost enough to break her.

"All true. It's your lucky day, Gracie," Crowley told her. He didn't sound particularly happy about the situation, and it felt like her heart was beating in her throat. The angel, Michael, was still looking up at her with those pretty blue eyes like he was trying to see right through her.

"What happens next?" she finally asked. They had to get the angel hiding in her soul out, right? Would getting him out completely destroy her soul? Was that how she would finally find peace?

"I will carry your soul out of Hell and reconstruct your body. Once we have both had time to rest and recover, I will remove Gabriel's grace and return him to his previous vessel." Emma heard the words, but she was having problems understanding them. She understood the individual words just fine, but she just couldn't put them together and make sense of them. Despite all of the strange and horrible things that had happened to her over the past two hundred years, this was the most confusing moment of her afterlife. She looked past Michael to Crowley, who raised a brow at her blank-faced stare.

"You are leaving Hell for good. Your soul will be all yours once again, without turning into a demon, and your little sister will continue to live a long and healthy life since you paid your end of the bargain," Crowley helpfully explained.

"But I don't have a body. It was burned." Her face felt numb even as she said the words, and she didn't really have any way of knowing if her body had been burned. Except, she did know. She couldn't explain how she knew, but it was something that she felt was true.

"It will be more difficult, but it can be done," Michael said while looking right into her eyes. What was left of Emma's body shuddered, and she felt cold tears on her heated cheeks. If this all turned out to be fake, to be some kind of illusion, she really was going to break. Getting out of Hell? No more torture or never-ending pain? It sounded too good to be true.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and the hook in Emma's wrist and the chains wrapped around her body disappeared. Her feet hit the ground, because she had _legs_ , and the strong hand on her hip kept her upright. A thumb brushed across the swell of her cheek, but the tears didn't slow. Emma raised her chin and looked up into Michael's eyes, but she couldn't read him. So instead of trying to figure him out, she let her head fall forwards so that her forehead rested against his chest. Her pitching slightly forward caused his hand to move from her cheek to the back of her head, and some distant part of her was surprised that he let her cry on him. When she finally felt completely wrung out, she brushed her nose against his sternum and tried to understand how someone standing in Hell could smell so clean. She thought about pulling back, but Michael's hand was still cupping the back of her skull.

"Castiel, return to Dean and tell them we'll be returning shortly. Crowley, you should probably leave." She was so close that she could feel Michael's words rumbling in his chest, and she thought that she might start crying again but wasn't sure if she had any tears left in her.

"See you around, Gracie." She was sure that Crowley left after saying the words, and Emma could have sworn that she heard feathers rustling as the other man left. It was just her and Michael now, and she finally pulled back and tipped her head back to meet his unreadable eyes.

"Are you ready?" Michael's voice was so quiet but still somehow drowned out the sound of distant screams, and she wanted to smile but couldn't seem to make herself.

"Ready to leave Hell? I have never been more ready for anything else so let's get this show on the road, sweetheart." The archangel's smile was blinding, or that could have been the light that was slowly filling the room. The hand on her hip was burning, white hot, but she could barely feel the pain. The light was just too _beautiful_.

 **SAM**

"I can't believe it's Emma," Sam said to no one in particular. He'd finally gotten away long enough to grab a tee shirt, but they were all still in the kitchen. Sam, Dean, and Daniel were the only ones sitting in the chairs at the bar. Sam was sitting in the middle, Dean was sitting in the chair closest to the counter that Cas was leaning against, and Daniel was on Sam's left side and curiously watching Balthazar next to the stove as he ate scrambled eggs out of a pan.

"You know her?" Daniel asked without looking away from Balthazar.

"Met her on a job once." Sam's answer was too simple. He and Dean met her on a job, and Sam helped build her funeral pyre. He had watched as she burned and could still remember the look of rust-colored blood against the sand. Sam had read her journal from cover to cover, had been reading the books in the trunk taken from her bus, and he even had a giant basket of her clothes stuffed into his closet that he kept forgetting to take to a thrift store.

"I'm not surprised it's Emma. She was the only soul we interrogated about the light that didn't remember what it did. Others witnessed the demons being burned out, but not her. She didn't even try to use information about the light to bargain her way out of the Pit like the others, and she's suffered the rack for two hundred years." Daniel really did sound impressed, but Sam just felt sick at imagining Emma in Hell for two centuries.

"Hard to believe that little thing spent two hundred years down there," Dean mumbled. He wasn't meeting anyone's eyes, and Sam had a feeling that he knew why. Everyone talking about Hell couldn't be easy for him.

"She was missing both legs and an arm when we found her but still conversed easily," Cas offered up.

"Missing?" Sam dimly heard himself ask.

"Amputation is a personal favorite of many demons," Daniel explained while avoiding Sam's eyes. Not that he needed to, because Sam was looking at his brother from the corner of his eye. Dean never went into detail about the torture he suffered in Hell. Did some demon bastard chop him into bits?

"How terribly morbid," Balthazar drawled before turning around to cook a few more eggs.

"How long is it gonna take for them to get back?" Dean asked and twisted his chair to the side to stare at Cas. Because just exchanging a quick look was very rare for those two.

"Reconstructing a human body is very difficult, and Michael is reconstructing a body from nothing. It will take time."

 **EMMA**

Emma sucked in a painful breath of sweet air and forced her eyes open. The sky above her was dark and endless, and the grass under her naked skin was cold and itchy. She bolted upright, fought through the small head rush, and immediately started running her hands over her body. Hair completely attached to her scalp and down past her shoulders, two eyes with clear vision, round nose, full lips that were only slightly cracked from dryness. Her tongue ran over all her teeth, and her toes curled and popped. Her legs were whole, and there weren't any gaps in her torso. She had a _body_ that wasn't being ripped apart, and the air she was breathing in didn't have a single trace of sulfur in it. Holy shit, she was _**alive**_.

"I'm alive!" she shouted up at the sky. She was exhausted and really wanted a nap, but her extreme joy was giving her an adrenaline rush.

"We should go." Quiet deep voice, thick golden brown hair, and the prettiest blue eyes she had ever seen. _Michael_. The archangel was standing in front of her and extending a hand, to help her stand up. She placed her scarred palm against his and let the angel pull her to her feet. Michael swayed a bit as he let her go, and she noticed that he was looking a little tired himself.

"You okay?" she asked him. Should all-powerful beings look that pale?

"I didn't realize creating a human body would be so difficult. I just need to rest." Right, he had to rebuild her body because it was burned to ash after her death. This body was new, even though it felt like her old one. She glanced down at her very naked body, determined that everything was exactly as it had been for the past two centuries when she was lucky enough to be whole, and then she slowly raised an arm to cover her breasts while her other hand covered the juncture of her thighs because she was remembering what modesty felt like. "I can't expend the energy to get clothes, but I can offer this."

"No, wait, you don't have to—" The angel passed over the plain black tee shirt he'd been wearing, which left him in just jeans and boots, and Emma quirked a nervous smile after pulling the shirt on over her head. "Thanks."

"It's the least I could do. We need to leave now," he said and held his hand out to her again. Emma went to shift her weight to a different foot and felt her knees give out. If Michael hadn't swooped in to catch her, knight in shining armor style, she would've been a heap of skin and bones on the ground.

"I guess I'll have to get used to having legs again, and hands," she said and flexed her fingers. Her hands and legs had usually been the first to go.

"Hold on tightly." Michael was already holding her up in his arms, so it was easy for Emma to loop her arms around his shoulders and lace her fingers together behind his neck.

"Carry me away, sweetheart."

 **SAM**

The lights in the kitchen began to flicker, and Sam tensed up as the air in the room became heavier. He listened to the sounds of Balthazar placing the pan back onto the stove and Dean's chair creaking as he shifted, and then Michael was in the room. His presence seemed to fill the entire kitchen, even as he dropped to one knee in the open space between the kitchen and living room. He was shirtless and holding a body in his arms, a body that was bare except for a black tee shirt. Wide dark brown eyes swept across the kitchen, but Emma's gaze didn't stop on any one person. Sam didn't even know if she recognized him and Dean. Michael slowly got to his feet, and his face was drawn and pale as he looked at them.

"We both need to rest," Michael said quietly. Dean and Sam were frozen in their seats, and the two angels were quiet. Daniel swiftly got to his feet and then cautiously walked over to the archangel, but he didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of Michael. The demon ran his fingers through Emma's dark brown hair as he leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead, and Emma sighed quietly.

"Welcome back, little love," Daniel whispered.

"A little birdy told me you weren't having any fun, and we can't have that. I'm going to need some shut-eye before we hit the town though." Emma's voice was the same as Sam remembered, light and teasing and just a little rough.

"Of course, love. Michael, I'll show you to a room," Daniel said and stepped past Michael. The archangel followed after the demon, and Sam turned around so that he could look at his brother.

"You think she remembers us?" he asked. Dean was still looking at where Michael had been standing a moment ago, and he didn't answer.

"Of course she doesn't. She just spent two _centuries_ being tortured repeatedly. I'm surprised she even knows her own name. Imbeciles," Balthazar grumbled as he stalked out of the room.

"He isn't wrong. It is not uncommon to forget an entire life after being in Hell." It sounded so simple when stated in Cas's gruff voice, and Sam drummed his fingers against the table top. Two centuries in Hell being tortured was something that Sam couldn't even begin to imagine, but he believed that Cas was right. Emma had been in Hell for longer than she had been alive.

"I'm going to sleep. Wake me up if anything else happens," Sam said and stood up. He clapped the back of Dean's shoulder and left before Dean or Cas could say anything, and he collapsed onto his messy bed a minute later. When he left his bed an hour ago, he just wanted something to drink but so much had happened instead. He stretched his legs out and turned his head, and he opened his eyes to immediately see the journal on his bedside table. Emma's journal. Maybe, when she was feeling better, he could help her remember her life.

 **•X•**

 **Finis:** This chapter was a little longer than my usual, so I know there's a lot of information to take in. The important stuff? Emma is out of Hell! Which means that Gabriel is out of Hell! I promise, Gabriel will be making a physical appearance very soon. Also, now that Emma is officially out of Hell, she'll be hanging around with the Winchesters so that's something fun to look forward to. If there are any questions about anything, I'd be happy to answer them! Thank you for reading!

For people who like knowing the background of little details, here's a few things that I think are interesting.

1: When Emma remembered flowers in the tin tub, she was actually remembering her mother's garden from her childhood home.

2: Dean made a soufflé at three in the morning after Cas popped in to give him a report on the state of Heaven, and Dean couldn't fall asleep afterwards so he cooked instead.

3: Emma can still remember things like Disney movies and phrases like _spidey sense_ because part of being tortured in the Pit is forgetting personal details. So she can't remember her sister's name or her mother's garden, but she knows that Disney characters have sparkly eyes.

 **SakiHanajima1:** Thank you so much for the review! I know I've been making Meg a little evil, but I love Meg. So she'll pop up from time to time. As for Daniel, he is precious! He'll be in the story a pretty good bit, since he's friends with Emma and Sam. He's also going to help out with the whole second Apocalypse thing, so I promise that he'll be around. I hope you liked this chapter as well!

 **Paigetcute:** Thank you so much for continuing to read and review! I know you read the original so I'm sure reading some of this is a little tedious, but your support is very much appreciated! If you ever think of something that you thought needed changing in the original story, please don't hesitate to tell me!

 **agent-jawa:** I am so excited to have Emma and Gabriel together again, because I absolutely love their friendship, so I'm happy to hear that you're excited for it too! Thank you so much for the review!

 **Rosenkreuz Orden:** Thank you for that compliment! Also, I'm happy that you're reading the story again! I don't think there are many Michael/OC stories in this fandom, so I'm happy to have this story up again. Thank you so much for the review!


	5. Big Crocodile Tears

**WF:** This chapter is dedicated to **SakiHanajima1**! Because without them, editing this chapter would have taken longer and this update would have been delayed. Thank you so much, friend!

 **Summary:** Emma is finally back topside and takes a much needed trip down memory lane. Sam becomes a helpful citizen and gets a few things off his chest, as well as a few things on it. Ew.

 **Post Date:** 14 July 2019

 **Word Count:** 8940

 _Lean on me  
_ _When you're not strong  
_ _I'll be your friend  
_ _I'll help you carry on  
_ _ **Lean On Me (Cover) by J2 feat. Sizzy Rocket**_

 _ **•**_ **X** _ **•**_

 **CHAPTER FIVE  
** **BIG CROCODILE TEARS**

 **12 JANUARY 2012**

 **EMMA**

There was no slow return to consciousness. First, there was a deep blackness and complete lack of awareness. The next moment, it felt like she had been slammed into her body and was locked inside of it. Dark eyes quickly scanned the room she was in, looking for the demon that was going to be torturing her, and she felt panic growing when she didn't recognize the room. The demons had tried playing mind games with her in the beginning; they had her wake up in her childhood bedroom or in hotel rooms that held her softest memories, and she had laughed and criticized details until they just stopped. That was so long ago, and she couldn't remember what her childhood bedroom or those soft hotel rooms looked like. Was she in a room that meant something to her once? Was she supposed to know this room?

"Emma." At the sound of the new voice, her head snapped to the side and her eyes widened. Clear blue eyes were looking at her, and Emma felt her panicked tension starting to ebb away as she remembered what happened. She still didn't remember the room, but she remembered those eyes. All she had been able to see was clear blue as she was asked if she was ready to leave Hell.

"Michael." The archangel saved her from Hell, because she had another archangel hiding out in her soul. She could remember all of that now. The conversation they had while her mutilated body was chained to an upright table, waking up topside in her own body, and seeing Daniel for a moment before her and Michael laid down to rest.

"I'm alive," she whispered. Her throat felt raw and sore, but the dull pain wasn't from some creative bit of torture. If she had to guess, she'd say that she was thirsty. She hadn't been thirsty in two hundred years.

"You are alive," Michael said as he continued to look at her. She couldn't stop herself from smiling, and one corner of his lips ticked upwards as her smile just continued to grow. "How do you feel?"

"I feel," Emma trailed off there and felt her smile starting to fade. Michael's expression darkened and turned serious, and she could feel her heart starting to race. "I don't know what I feel. I know I'm not being tortured, but I can't…what do I… _I don't know what I feel_."

The last words were said from between clenched teeth as she curled up into a tight ball, and her hands fisted in her hair. With the complete absence of torture, she didn't know what to feel. How messed up was that? She had been saved from Hell, but now she was having a full blown panic attack because she didn't know how to feel anymore. She couldn't remember how she felt before Hell, if she'd had anything in her life that made her happy, and she didn't know what was going to happen to her next. At least in Hell she knew what to expect, but now she didn't know anything and her head was killing her and it felt like she couldn't take in a full breath and everything was just so-

Hands grabbed her arms, fingers wrapped securely around her wrists without squeezing too tight, and she let Michael gently pull her hands away from her hair before she made herself bald. Her eyes were burning because she had started crying even with her eyes tightly shut, and she could only see blurry shapes and colors where she thought Michael's face was. She was curled on her side and facing towards him, and she thought he might have turned on his side to do the same but couldn't see well enough to say for sure. He released her left wrist, and her hand immediately twisted in the blanket on the bed as she tried to control her breathing. Since Michael was still holding onto her other wrist, it was easy for him to stretch her arm out. Her tight fist brushed across warm skin and a little bit of scruff, and her fingers uncurled as she blinked the tears out of her eyes.

"What do you feel?" Michael asked her patiently. Her palm was pressed against his cheek, little bit of scruff tickling across her palm, but her fingertips were against the soft skin under his eyes.

"It tickles," she said and moved her hand against the grain of his facial hair. It did tickle, and how long had it been since she felt something _tickle_ against her skin?

"You know how you feel." His hand pressed against hers, completely obscuring most of her hand, and she realized she hadn't looked away from his eyes since she had cleared her vision. "Returning will be an adjustment. It will require focus and patience, but you will adjust in time."

"I will adjust from my centuries-long vacation in Hell," she promised. She wasn't sure if she was promising herself or promising Michael, but the words felt weighted like a promise. Michael's expression didn't change, but she thought he was a little confused. Maybe angels didn't understand dark humor?

"Can I do anything to help?" He looked sincere, like he really wanted to help her, but she wasn't sure what he could do. He had already brought her back topside and given her a body, _her body_ , and she would have to figure out the rest. Of course, he only brought her back because of the angel in her soul and that problem was not hers to figure out.

"What do we do about the angel in my soul?" She knew the angel's name, _Archangel Gabriel_ , but she couldn't say it out loud. Like if she said it out loud, everything would suddenly become real. More real than the fast beat of her actual heart in her chest and maybe even more real than her hand caught between Michael's cheek and palm. She needed to know the plan though, even if it wasn't something that she had to figure out. It did involve her, it involved her soul apparently, so she wanted to know the plan.

"I will gather my strength here until I am strong enough to extract Gabriel's grace, and Gabriel needs time to grow stronger as well." That sounded simple enough. The archangel had been stuck with her in Hell for a couple of centuries and Michael had rebuilt her body from scratch, so strength gathering seemed like a solid plan.

"So we're just going to hang out here?" she asked and looked around the room. Definitely a bedroom.

"I will be in a deep meditative state similar to your sleep while I gather strength." Deep meditative state similar to _her_ sleep? Did that mean angels didn't sleep? If that was true, they must be able to get so much done. Her curiosity was piqued, but she only limited herself to one question.

"How long are you going to be asleep?" Michael looked like he was going to correct her for a moment before stopping himself, and she raised a questioning brow in the hopes of getting him to hurry along.

"Several days, possibly more." She nodded at that and relaxed against the mattress, but her arm continued to stay outstretched because Michael was still holding her hand against his cheek.

"What do I do while you're sleeping?" Emma could feel a little bit of panic in the uptick of her heart rate, and some of that panic must have showed because Michael pressed her palm more firmly against his skin like he was trying to ground her.

"We are in the home of Dean and Sam Winchester. Human hunters, like you. They will look out for you until I can remove Gabriel's grace. You are safe here." He looked serious and genuine, and she nodded. She knew that she had been a hunter; the demons loved to remind her of that, and she knew that the tattoos on her ribcage were for hunting. She even knew exactly what hunting was and how to do a simple salt 'n burn, but she couldn't remember any details of her own hunts.

"I'm safe here," she repeated. Michael nodded to back up her words, and she laid her head back down on the pillow under her and snuggled down against the blanket again. "Can I go back to sleep for a little while? I haven't slept in forever."

"Rest, Emma."

Michael closed his eyes, and his body seemed to go completely still. His chest was still moving so his vessel was still breathing, but it was like he dropped into an immediate deep sleep. His hand hadn't moved though, so Emma's hand was still pressed against the side of his face. She tried to keep her eyes open, to keep looking at the way her smaller fingers peeked out from under his larger ones, but she really was still tired. She could also feel a dull ache starting in her stomach, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to feel pain if she was asleep. She had missed sleep so much and wasn't in a hurry to feel pain again, so she finally let her eyes close and let herself drift off.

 **SAM**

Sam froze in the kitchen doorway with one hand tangled in his hair and the other scratching at his stomach. Emma was standing in front of one of the cabinets, still dressed only in Michael's black tee shirt, and she looked so small in the overly large shirt. The morning sunlight pouring through the window over the kitchen sink highlighted her silhouette and only accentuated how messy her dark hair was, like she had just rolled out of bed and came straight to the kitchen. She also wasn't moving. She was just looking up into the cabinet with her hands dangling by her sides. It was the cabinet with random bits of food, like cereal and granola bars.

"Emma?" Her shoulders shifted under the loose fabric, tensing and then relaxing, but she didn't turn to look at him.

"I can't remember what I like. Do I like blueberry Pop-Tarts? Or the chocolate ones? Do I even like Pop-Tarts?" Her voice was quiet and even, but her hands were starting to shake. Balthazar was surprised that she could remember her own name, so why would she be able to remember something as insignificant as her favorite breakfast foods?

"I think you'll like the chocolate ones," he told her quietly. She mentioned chocolate in her journal, often and occasionally poetically, so Sam was making an educated guess. A slim, slightly shaking, hand reached up to grab the box of chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts. When she turned around to face him a few minutes later, her eyes were guarded and she was holding the foil packet close to her chest.

"I had to pee."

"What?" One day, Sam was going to wake up and make it thirty minutes without being thoroughly confused. Thirty minutes of sanity and clarity wasn't asking too much, was it?

"I woke up because my stomach hurt. There's no peeing in Hell, or hunger. It took me a minute to realize that the dull pain was my bladder and stomach. I feel like an idiot," she grumbled and peeked up at him through the messy hair covering her eyes.

"You just need to take time to adjust." He tried to smile and hoped that it came off as reassuring. It must have worked, because Emma shakily smiled back and then looked down at her Pop-Tarts. Her brow wrinkled and then she was looking up at him again. She took a few steps forward, tipped her head back to look him straight in the eye, and held out a hand.

"I'm the girl harboring an archangel and crashing in your house, Emma Motley," she said with a stronger smile and raised her hand a little higher. Sam thought about that night in the graveyard, when she had formally introduced herself. (She'd been wearing baggy shorts and had dirt streaked across one cheek that night.) He took the much smaller hand in his own and gave it a small shake.

"Sam Winchester." Her nose twitched as her eyes narrowed, and she looked a mixture of confused and frustrated.

"The name kind of tickles, but I can't." She paused there and reached up with one hand to run her fingers through her hair, and he thought the dark flush on her cheeks was from frustration more than embarrassment. "I can't remember."

"After you eat, I might have something that can help you." Dark brown eyes stared at him for a moment longer before she shrugged and finally ripped open the foil packet. Either giving Emma her journal would work, or it would go horribly wrong.

 **EMMA**

The water pressure in this strange house was absolutely amazing. The closest thing Emma had had to a bath in years was getting drowned in her own blood, and she had a feeling that didn't really count. Mainly because blood was not all that great at getting the dirt out of her pores. She didn't even care that the shampoo and body wash had strong masculine scents, because she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so _clean_. The water was hot without being scalding, and she was safe. No one was coming to strip her skin off or rip her limbs from her body, and she ate Pop-Tarts. She ate chocolaty goodness and drank coffee, peed again, and she was now in a very awesome shower. The little things in life.

Getting out of the shower wasn't something that she wanted to do, but her skin was getting wrinkly and the water was at that lukewarm stage right before it changed to freezing cold. Remembering little things like that was becoming even easier, but she was still struggling to remember the details of her own life. She was fairly sure that she had loved chocolate and that she had possibly known the tall stranger she'd met in the kitchen, but that was it so far. After wrapping a towel around her hair, she hurriedly dried off the rest of her body and then glanced into the mirror. Her body was the same as it had looked in Hell when she was whole, but she had forgotten where the different marks came from. The giant network of protection tattoos on her right ribcage were gotten because she was a hunter, but she didn't remember _how_ she had gotten them. The scars on her body were familiar, but she didn't know the stories behind them. Her skin was pale and dotted with freckles, and her hips and breasts were full while her arms and legs were lined with muscles. So she felt like herself, even if she couldn't remember herself.

She wrapped the towel back around her body and poked her head around the slightly open bathroom door. She was in Sam's bathroom, which was in Sam's bedroom. Sure enough, the really tall dude was sitting on the massive bed with a basket of clothes next to him. The massive bad thing wasn't surprising, because the guy would need a bed that big unless he wanted his feet to constantly hang off the end. The big guy was being really nice to her, and he kept looking at her with big puppy eyes. She had a serious urge to pet his beautiful shaggy hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even though she was the one who had just gotten out of Hell. First though, she wanted to know why the friendly giant had so many girl clothes.

"You had all of these just lying around?" She tightened her left fist around the fluffy towel to make it a little bit more secure as she walked out into the bedroom, and she watched as broad shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. Emma made a quiet humming sound and then poked her hand into the basket to start moving clothes around.

"I keep forgetting to take them to a thrift store. They should fit you," he said with a small smile. No, he said it with a secretive smile. What was he hiding? Emma picked up a pair of dark colored panties and a matching bra, and she had to snort back a laugh. The boyshorts and sports bra had a Ouija board design, and that was just hilarious. Because of her previous life choices.

"At least she had good taste," Emma mused with a soft smile. She laid the underclothes on the bed and looked over at Sam, and she pointed a finger at him as she narrowed her eyes. "Cover your eyes and no peeking."

Sam made a show of covering his eyes and then peeking between his fingers, and he smiled as his fingers closed and he started humming. Emma just rolled her eyes at the display and let the towel drop to the floor. Modesty was still a new thing, especially since she woke up in nothing but a thin tee shirt that barely covered her ass, but she didn't like the thought of anyone seeing her newly formed body. She quickly slipped on the underwear and then rooted around in the basket for some actual clothes. She yanked on a pair of loose whitewashed denim shorts and a soft green tee shirt that said **SMASH** across the chest, and she decided that was good enough.

"Can I look now?" Sam asked after she'd been standing still for a little while. This was the first time she had worn actual clothes in longer than she could remember.

"Yeah, I'm decent." She bent over to unwrap the towel around her head and gave her hair one last scrub before straightening up. Sam was already waiting with a brush, and Emma took it with a small grateful smile. She waited until she was nearly done brushing out her tangles before asking, "Do you know anything about people getting out of the Pit?"

"A little. Why?" He looked confused but not surprised, and Emma placed the brush on the bed before answering.

"Because I'm pretty sure I didn't have this before Hell." She'd lifted her tee shirt and pulled down her shorts just enough to show the hand-shaped burn on her left hip, and she watched as Sam's eyes narrowed in concentration and then widened in realization.

"It's where Michael pulled you out," he said quietly. So, burned handprints were normal. Good to know. It was just another mark on her body, one of many, so it wasn't like she was going to get upset over it.

"Huh." She sort of felt branded, but that was an extremely low price to pay for getting out of Hell.

"Cas said that you need to rest, and you can stay in here for the day. And, uh, I think you should read this." He reached behind him to grab something, and Emma held in a laugh as she watched his long arms stretch to the other side of the bed and nearly knock a lamp off of his bedside table before grabbing what he was looking for. The laughter trapped in her throat disappeared completely when he held out a leather book, and Emma carefully took it in her scarred palms. It was a light brown, almost cream colored, and tied together with lime green shoelaces.

"I was wearing these the day my mom died." The thought hit her, right between the eyes, as she ran her fingers over the frayed edges of the shoelaces. "This is mine?"

"Any hunter worth their salt has a journal, and you're a damned good hunter." Emma looked over at Sam as her fingers tightened around the journal, and she could feel her heart pounding.

"My step-dad bought it for me for Christmas, but I never wrote in it because I was too old for a stupid diary. When I snuck back into the house after the cops were gone, to grab some clothes, I grabbed this too. Why can I remember that when I can't remember my step-dad's name?" Large hands covered hers where she was gripping the journal with white knuckles, and Emma wished for a moment that she could disappear inside of Sam's pretty hazel eyes and hide forever.

"Just read it. I think it'll help you remember everything." Emma nodded and watched as Sam left the room, and her thumb stroked across a shoelace after she heard the bedroom door close.

Once he was gone and she knew that she was alone, she moved the basket of clothes onto the floor next to the towels she had used and then slowly crawled up the bed. With her back propped up against the headboard and cushioned by a mound of pillows, she looked down at the journal. It was thick, now that she was really paying attention. Stuffed past capacity, she'd say, and the leather cover looked worn. Her fingers were shaking as she untied the shoelaces and then pulled them free, and she sucked in a deep breath before finally opening it. The first page she saw was blank except for a single line written across the center of the page.

 _Emma Motley's Guide To Baddies & Exorcism 101_

She laughed. She knew, somehow, that this wasn't the original first page. This was added later on, after the anger was burned out and replaced with a desire to just _help_. She remembered sitting on the roof of a bar in Vegas, drunk off her ass with loving bite marks peppering her thighs, when she added the page. It made her laugh then too. This journal was her life. It held everything she'd done since becoming a hunter. It was a step to remembering who she was. It was a step.

 **SAM**

"She's been up there all day," Dean huffed as he kneaded dough. Watching Dean make pizza from scratch was never going to get old. His brother was _nesting_. It was a little surreal, but it was good.

"She's reading her journal and trying to remember her life before Hell. I'm sure it's taking a lot out of her," Sam defended. Emma had looked so lost when little memories started creeping through, and Sam just hoped that he'd made the right decision in giving the journal to her so soon.

"Giving her the journal was a good idea. I imagine it must be very confusing not knowing your own past," Cas said quietly. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with the angel, and they were both watching Dean as he tossed pasta sauce and other various things onto his homemade pizza.

"You really read the whole thing?" Dean asked as he sprinkled something that Sam couldn't identify from where he was sitting.

"Yeah, and it's very thorough. It details all of her hunts and other personal information. Maybe, if she remembers the big things, the little things will come back too," Sam shrugged.

"Was there anything in there about her saying yes to Gabriel?" Dean asked.

"Michael said she granted permission in a dream," Cas offered up. Sam searched his memory of the journal, but he'd remember if Emma wrote about meeting an archangel. If it was a dream though, he might know when she said _yes_ to Gabriel.

"She did have a dream a few days before she died about letting the light in. Could that have been Gabriel?" Sam asked Cas. The angel looked contemplative as his head did that little tilt thing, and he looked down at his hands as he nodded slowly.

"I believe that is possible."

"Ah, Winchesters, I'm afraid I must depart for a few days. I have a new mission that requires my attention, but I should return soon." Sam looked up just in time to see Daniel standing in the kitchen before he disappeared completely, and he blinked at the abruptness of the demon's departure.

"Okay, now the house is demon free. Are the angels still sleeping?" The pizza was finally in the oven, and Dean leaned back against the counter next to the stove after asking the question.

"Michael and Balthazar are gathering their strength, yes." Simple and to the point.

"Awesome." Yeah, they were definitely a match made in heaven.

 **EMMA**

 _ **Journal Entry: May 02, 2009**_

 _Rule number one in hunting: don't get dead. Rule number seventeen in hunting: never trust a demon. Well, I'm breaking both of those. Not that I want to. I'm not selfless, and I can admit that I really don't want to die. I want to live until I'm so old that I fart baby powder, but I guess that isn't in the cards for any hunter. Whatever. It's a done deal. Pardon the pun._

 _It's Ava. I've noticed that something was off the past few times I've dropped by. She kept getting headaches and didn't have a lot of energy. It was a brain tumor. The doctors were going to operate, but the chances of her living until the end of the week was below one percent. My baby sister was going to die, so I did what I had to. I went to see her first though. I waited until visiting hours were long over and she was doped to the gills, but I had to see her. Tomorrow, they're going to shave off all of her pretty hair. It's so soft and straight, like Mom's was. She was so little that I was scared I was going to break her hand as I held it._

 _I made a deal with the devil. Or, well, a crossroads demon. In most cases, people usually get at least ten years before their soul is dragged to Hell. Me? I'm only getting a year. The smug little bastard said it was because I keep killing all his friends. Who would've thought that pissing off demons would come back to bite me in the ass? Not that it matters, because I said yes. He could've taken me right then and there as long as Ava was okay. It's already been an hour since I bargained away my soul, but I feel okay. I've always known that I wasn't going to die peacefully in my sleep. It's happening a little sooner than I thought, but the ending is still pretty much the same. At least now I'm dying for something… for Ava._

 **SAM**

"I'm gonna go check on Emma," Sam said as he slowly got up from the kitchen table.

"Take her some pizza. She's probably hungry," Dean said around a mouthful of his own pizza. Cas was just sitting next to Dean at the table and watching him eat, and Sam was starting to feel like a third wheel so taking Emma some food sounded like a good idea.

" _There's no peeing in Hell, or hunger."_

It was possible that she'd forgotten that she was supposed to eat now. Sam put a few slices of pizza on a plate and then grabbed a bottle of water before leaving the kitchen. The tension in the air from all of the soulful eye sex was starting to get a little ridiculous, so he was happy to take the provided escape. Maybe, if everyone survived this Apocalypse, Sam would celebrate by locking those two in a closet. Naked. That should drive the point home.

"Hey, Emma, I brought pizza," Sam called out as he stepped into his bedroom. He nudged the door closed with his foot and then looked up at the head of the bed. Watery eyes looked over at him, and Emma's eyes were filled with tears and so dark that they appeared to be completely black. She was sitting cross-legged with her journal in her lap, and her fingers were touching the pictures at the back.

"I died for her, but I forgot her name. How could I ever forget Ava's name?" Sam placed the pizza and water bottle on his nightstand and carefully sat down next to Emma. She was still crying, big crocodile tears, and just staring at him. Should he say something? What was the right way to comfort someone who just returned from Hell and was remembering her whole life after being tortured for centuries? There wasn't a handbook for this.

"You never forgot about her, did you? You still remembered your little sister?" Her head slowly nodded as she looked at him, but the tears didn't slow.

"I knew that I died for her and that I loved her, but I forgot her name. I was starting to forget what she looked like. If you hadn't given this to me, I probably wouldn't have—Thank you!" Strong but soft arms wrapped around his neck, and Sam hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. He could feel hot tears dropping onto his neck, and he just went with his gut instinct. He pulled on her until she was in his lap and tightened his hold, and he made quiet little sounds in the back of his throat as the floodgates opened. The silent tears turned into gut wrenching sobs as she broke down, and Sam just rocked her as she let it all out.

By the time Emma stopped crying, Sam's ass was numb and the left shoulder of his shirt was soaked. Emma pulled back and pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes, and Sam used the bottom of his shirt to wipe her face. So what if the mess was a mixture of tears and snot? Possibly a little saliva. She looked at him with red eyes and an even redder nose, and she was an ugly crier. When Sam noticed the tear stains on a few pages of her journal, he always pictured the small hunter crying with quiet dignity. Kind of like how Dean cried. Nope, Emma was a messy crier and Sam was glad she was. Emma Motley was just a girl, who got snotty when she cried. Emma wrote about them in her journal, and all he could think about as he looked at her tired face was a line from that entry. _I met the Winchesters, and they're just men._

Sam smiled a little as their eyes met, and it was the first time he'd seen her eyes up close. Her eyes were wide and expressive, and he could see lighter flecks of brown in her dark eyes despite how bloodshot her eyes were from crying. Emma kept her eyes locked on his as he lifted a hand and carefully touched her hair. It was the same dark brown that he remembered, red in some places where the light hit it, and a little wild. Her hair had dried into slight waves, but a few of those waves were stuck to her wet cheeks.

"Sorry." Her naturally hoarse voice was a little rougher from all the sobbing, and Sam pushed some of the hair clinging to her cheek back behind her ear.

"Don't be." She looked down at her lap, where Sam had a hand braced against her thigh. It was her left leg. The one that had a scar running from her hip to her knee. (The top of the scar was now covered by a hand-shaped burn.)

"I remember getting it now," Emma whispered. Her fingers danced over and between where his were splayed and then on down to trace the rest of the scar. It was about as thick as one of his fingers and a shiny white, clearly years old.

"Grindylow, on your first standalone hunt. You stitched yourself up with pink thread," Sam teased. Emma snorted a laugh and looked up at him as her hand covered his.

"Did you read the whole thing?" She didn't look mad or upset, just curious, so Sam didn't worry about how much he had invaded her privacy for the moment.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell Dean I was your favorite." Dark eyes rolled as she ducked down to lay her head on a dry part of his chest, and he felt a hand curling around the bottom of his shirt. Her other hand was still resting on top of his.

"I feel really naked now, like more than I did when I was just wearing a towel earlier. Or an archangel's tee shirt. Why'd you keep it? How'd you get it in the first place?" Sam leaned back against the mound of pillows propped up against the headboard, and Emma stayed curled up on top of him.

"We went with Bobby to take care of your body, and I drove your bus back. I might have snooped around a little. I found your journal in the lockbox and read the first page, and it made me laugh. I felt really bad about laughing, because you were dead, but I liked it. I forgot about it for a while, dealing with the Apocalypse and everything. When it was over, I got the journal and your trunk out of the bus. I started reading it while we were in Vegas celebrating, and I kept reading it after the vacation was over. It was just, I don't know, different."

"My running commentary on every delicious thing I've ever eaten?" Emma asked in a light teasing tone.

"Among other things," Sam answered with a quiet laugh.

"And my clothes?"

"I really did keep forgetting to take them to a thrift store." She huffed against his chest and stretched her legs out, and she moved her hand up his arm to under his shirtsleeve. Her hand curled into a fist under the material, and Sam let both of his hands splay against her back.

"How long was I gone, Sam? What's the date?" Emma's cheek was still pressed against his chest, and Sam turned his head so that his temple could rest against the top of her head.

"January twelfth. Twenty-twelve," he answered quietly. He felt the shiver that went through Emma's body and gave her a light squeeze as he listened to her dry throat click as she swallowed.

"Not quite two years then. Twenty months in the Pit. Feels like a few lifetimes," she said with a quiet laugh. When Sam said her name and started to speak, she shook her head and took in a deep breath. "Alright, tell me everything I missed and don't cheat me on the details. You read my entire journal, which details everything I've ever killed and about the florist I lost my virginity to, so you owe me some good stories."

Sam was stretched out on his bed with a recently revived hunter curled up on his torso, and it was surprisingly easy to talk. Sam loved Dean, more than anyone else in the world, but his big brother wasn't the best with heart-to-hearts. Which Sam didn't understand, because Dean had the biggest heart he'd ever seen. (That gruff attitude wasn't fooling anyone.) The point was, Sam had never really had a chance to get everything off his chest. About Azazel, his mom, his dad, Dean, Jessica, Ruby, the demon blood, Lucifer, starting the Apocalypse. It had all been locked up inside, apparently waiting to come out. Emma kept her head on his chest and let him talk, and she only spoke when she needed him to clear something up for her. They each ate the pizza Sam had brought up and shared the water bottle, and Sam kept talking. He told her everything, and she just listened.

If at some point, after they sluggishly changed into pajamas and burrowed under the blankets, Emma started twirling and braiding Sam's hair between her fingers while he talked himself hoarse… well, that was just one more secret between them.

 **EMMA**

"Sammy! We can't find—Oh, there you are. Uh, good morning?" Emma groaned after the light was flipped on, and she pulled the blanket up over her head. The move accidentally caused her to punch Sam's chin, but he just grunted and crossed his arms over her back instead of pushing her off of his torso. The big guy made a surprisingly good pillow.

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam's voice was sleep rough, and his chest rumbled a bit under her cheek as he spoke.

"I couldn't find Emma, and we have a case."

"Can I go?" Emma asked as her head popped out of the blanket. Sam finally opened his eyes so that he could shoot her a _look_ , and Emma shrugged. What? She spent two centuries roasting. She kind of missed being the one to put an ass-whooping on someone.

"I don't think that'd be a good idea. You just got back, and an archangel is riding your soul. Don't worry, Cas will be here, since the other two feathered dicks are _sleeping_." Emma blinked at Dean's angry tone but didn't say anything. After listening to Sam's story about how the last Apocalypse went down, she could understand the anger. Really. She'd be pissed too.

"Where's Daniel?" Sam was also nice enough to tell her about the new world crisis going on, like how two ancient angels were out to free Lucifer and cause Hell on Earth. She was really proud of Daniel for standing with the good guys. She liked the pretty demon, and he had been her only friend for two hundred years.

"Some new mission, probably under Crowley's orders," Dean grumbled.

"I don't know if I should be proud that the demon I sold my soul to became the King of Hell or disgusted," Emma murmured to herself. A tiny part of her was a little worried about Daniel, because demons like Crowley weren't exactly trustworthy, but the dude was ancient and could take care of himself.

"Disgusted with a touch of pride?" Sam offered. Large hands gripped her hips and lifted her into the air, and Emma fought the urge to pout as Sam set her down on the floor. What was she? A big doll? She curled her toes into the carpet and smiled when she felt them pop, and her back popped after she lifted her hands into the air and bent backwards a little.

"You too, huh?" she heard Dean ask as she continued to stretch.

"Me too what?" Emma asked with her hands still reaching for the ceiling. Sam was standing next to her now, and he poked her exposed hip. Right where Dean was looking. All of the stretching made her tank top ride up, and she looked down at the burn mark. "Oh yeah, my little Hell souvenir. I feel like I've been branded. Do you feel like you've been branded?"

"No." It was said swiftly and with conviction, but he was still rubbing his arm.

"Whatever you say, Deano. So, Cas is on grace-sitting duty?" Sam was shuffling around in the bathroom, and Emma leaned back against the bed as she looked Dean over. He was dressed and ready to start the day, and she felt a little out of place in her baggy pajamas.

"Someone has to make sure that you stay in one piece." Oh, that was definitely a suggestive grin. Hell games, okay. There was a calculating look in his eyes, like he was waiting for her to break. Well, she already did that. Kind of. Sam's tee shirt would never be the same.

"Where's the fun in that? It's not a party until something pops off," she grinned right back. Dean just nodded at her like she'd passed some big test, and Emma gave herself a mental pat on the back. She was sure, at some point, that she was going to go stark raving mad. Someone was going to do something, a memory would get triggered, and she'd go batshit. She'd face that inevitability when it came.

"What kind of job? Demons?" Sam asked. He was pulling a tee shirt on, and Emma really couldn't help staring. Not because Sam looked good shirtless, which he did, but because he just seemed so huge. Dean wasn't quite as tall, but it seemed like he took up the same amount of space. Geeze, what were these guys eating?

"Nah, witches in Michigan. Something small, but Bobby owes the hunter that was gonna take it a favor. And we owe Bobby," Dean shrugged.

"I hate witches," Emma grumbled and moved to fully sit on the bed.

"That's why you have the protection symbols, right? Anti-witchcraft?" Sam was packing a bag now, and Dean walked farther into the room so he could stand next to the bed.

"Yes. Getting them was the opposite of fun, but it was worth it. I don't know why most hunters don't get them. Sure, it has a little hoodoo-voodoo thing going on, but they keep me from getting hexed. Also, demons can't toss me around whenever they want. I can't be found either," Emma said with a proud smile. Yes, getting them was extremely painful, but so worth it considering her chosen profession. Her proud smile was also because she remembered how she got the tattoos, because she could finally remember her life.

"How can we get this?" Dean asked.

"Well, first, you find someone capable of doing it. Then you ask yourself, is the pain worth it? If you decide yes, you present a gift and a little bit of blood. The rest is just pain."

"What kind of pain?" Emma looked Dean right in the eye, which wasn't a hardship because big brother had some seriously pretty eyes, and then lifted her tank top. She twisted herself around and kept the important bits covered, and Dean's gaze on her tattooed ribcage almost felt like a physical touch.

"The design varies from person to person and is discovered by a small dose of electricity. Opens up the soul for the shaman to see, or something. The skin is burned in purification and healed with lamb's blood, which actually hurts almost as much as the burning. Once it's all healed up, only takes a few minutes, the individual symbols are carved into the flesh. Healed with the blood of a raven. Scrubbed smooth with pure silver. Then the tattooing begins. Once it starts, it doesn't stop until it's finished."

"Oh, is that all?" Emma glared over at Dean as she softly patted her side and then carefully straightened up. Yes, it hurt so much that it was like voluntary torture and was a crazy thing to go through, but the pros far outweighed the cons.

"I'm protected from pretty much everything. Most magic can't touch me. In our line of work, I'd say that's pretty important," she said and then shrugged. The symbols and sigils had saved her more than once, so she definitely didn't regret getting them. Even if some hunters accused her of being a witch or a witch-sympathizer. (Because not all hunters realized that not all of the monsters they hunted were evil. Emma hated witches, yeah, but only the ones that killed innocents.)

"She has a point, Dean."

"You want to get voodoo tattoos?" Emma turned her head to look at Sam, who was looking across the room at Dean. It looked like they were having an entire conversation with just their eyes.

"It couldn't hurt."

"You protected against angels?" Dean was looking straight at her now, and Emma scrubbed a hand through her messy hair.

"No. I never had a reason to be." Not too long before selling her soul, she wasn't even sure if angels existed. She had known demons existed, had fought them and sent a few back to Hell, but angels? Learning that they were real had been a surprise.

"The douchebags looking to spring Lucifer, Belial and Abaddon, are angels. They can track us using you, so we'll go see your shaman as soon as we get back." Dean's tone was decisive, and Emma resisted the urge to nod in compliance. Dean wasn't the boss of her, not really, so she didn't have to nod in respect to his order.

"Aye, aye, cap'n!" Emma snapped off a salute and did her best not to laugh. Normally she wouldn't even smile, but keeping a straight face was too hard when Dean was glaring like that. Sam suddenly blocked her vision, and she smiled up at the overly tall hunter.

"Go into town and buy a few things for yourself, and take Cas. You can pick out a guest room or stay in here," Sam rambled out. He pressed a slim wallet and keys that felt like home into her scarred hands, and she thought she could feel tears of gratitude prickling in the corners of her eyes.

"Go kill a witch. I'll still be here when you get back," Emma smiled. Sam ruffled her hair, smiled at her lukewarm glare, and left with Dean. Emma enjoyed the feeling of sitting on a soft mattress for another minute and then made her way into the bathroom. She was going to enjoy that water pressure one more time before getting ready to face the day.

 **SAM**

"So." Sam looked away from the book he was reading, which he got from Emma's trunk, and looked over at his brother. "Emma, huh?"

"What about her?" Dean glanced away from the road long enough to smile at him and do something with his eyebrows that made Sam flush. Flush, not blush. It was an important distinction.

"Oh, come on, dude. You two were wrapped up like a pretzel this morning." Okay, maybe he was blushing. Not because Dean had seen him and Emma asleep together, but because of Dean's very unsubtle tone.

"It wasn't like that, Dean. Two people can share a bed without it being sexual. She just got out of Hell."

"Exactly! That's my point! Can you think of a better way to celebrate?"

"I worry about you, I really do."

"You're telling me you two didn't do anything?" Sam rolled his eyes at the question and tried to think of how to explain it. He didn't feel anything sexual towards Emma, even though he could easily admit that she was attractive, and he believed that Emma felt the same way towards him.

"I guess we just have an understanding. We talked, and we went to sleep." He almost wanted to call her a friend, but was that right? He barely knew her outside of a journal, but that journal pretty much told him everything he needed to know about her. Her favorite color was green, she had an abnormal love of chocolate, she liked listening to blues when she took a bubble bath, and she lost her virginity to a florist that turned out to be a shapeshifter.

"Alright, if you say so."

"Do you really want to talk about sex right now, Dean? Really?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam just smiled and opened his book again. "Sam? Sammy!"

 **EMMA**

"I know you're all comatose while you gather your strength for this grace transfer thing, so this is probably really cowardly or whatever. Ugh, how are you so pretty? You look like a statue."

Emma felt a little creepy just sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the archangel sleep, or watching him while he was in a deep meditative state. He was still lying in the same place, but he wasn't facing towards the empty side of the bed where she had been sleeping anymore. His head was straight on the pillow instead, facing upwards, and even though it felt creepy she continued to just look down at him. She couldn't help remembering their conversation from earlier that morning, what now felt like a lifetime ago, and she felt the tip of her nose starting to itch. It was a signal that she was on the verge of ugly crying, and she fisted her hands in her lap as she sucked in a slow breath.

Thin fingers scrubbed through her hair as she tried to gather her scattered thoughts, and she sighed as her mind came up blank. Instead of speaking for the moment, she just continued to look at Michael. She knew that he was in the vessel of some dude that had been in a coma and was now chilling up in Heaven thanks to Sam's explanations, but he looked so _human_ and not like an all-powerful archangel. His thick hair was such a light brown that it looked blonde even in the barely-there light of the lamp next to the bed, and it looked like it would be soft to the touch. (Not that she was going to touch his hair, because that had to be crossing some kind of boundary. Crossing an even bigger boundary than falling asleep with her hand pressed to his cheek.) His face was relaxed and even in sleep, and his full lips were parted just a bit as he breathed. For a moment, she really wished that his eyes would open so that she could see the beautiful clear color of them again.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is, thank you. Thank you for pulling me out of Hell. I know you didn't do it for me, I know you only did it to save the angel hiding in my soul, but I'm saying thank you anyway. Maybe I'll have the courage to thank you when you're awake too."

Could she look him in the eye and thank him? She thought that she could, maybe, if he wasn't standing too close. There was something about his presence that could be a little overwhelming at times, which made sense considering who he was. A part of her was amazed at how kind he had been towards her so far, considering what she had done. The way Sam talked, Michael and the archangel in her soul had some familial issues, but they were still brothers. Still two of the first angels. That had to create some kind of unimaginable bond, right? She had pulled Michael's brother into Hell, so she would have understood anger. She just hoped that the archangel hadn't felt any of her torture.

Emma wanted to do more than just thank Michael though. Her main reason for sneaking into the guest room had been to tell him something different, even though she knew that he was sleeping. Sam and Dean were gone, and the house felt empty. She knew that it wasn't, but she had felt a little off-balance ever since she stepped out of Sam's bedroom. Even eating more Pop-Tarts and drinking several glasses of chocolate milk hadn't settled her, and she wanted to see Michael again. Who knew? Maybe he could understand her even while sleeping.

"I know what I feel now," she started quietly. Her fingers twisted together in her lap but she continued speaking. "Sam had my journal and reading it brought everything back. My entire life, can you believe it? I know that my mother loved to garden, that my step-dad loved photography, and that my little sister's life was worth everything I suffered in Hell. I remember hunting, fighting against things that wanted to kill me and enjoying little stolen moments of peace, and I had a good life. It wasn't particularly happy, but it was a good life."

She quickly wiped at her cheeks, maybe a little too roughly, to get rid of the tears that had fallen. Not being able to remember who she was would have driven insane, and she felt so much more at home in her own skin now that she knew who she was. She never forgot that she sold her soul for her sister, but she hadn't been able to remember why. Now she knew that she had loved her little sister, loved Ava more than she had ever loved herself, and that she had made the right decision. Before Michael came, she had nearly completely lost herself. If it had taken him longer to find his brother, she might have finally agreed to stop the pain. What would have happened to the archangel after her soul turned to smoke?

"Emma?" She jumped, a little guiltily, and turned wide eyes to the doorway behind her. The other pretty angel, the one with the rumpled suit, was staring at her. Probably because she was the lunatic talking to a comatose archangel.

"Hey, Cas, right?" He inclined his head, but there was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that suggested he didn't like the nickname. Interesting. "I was just checking on him, you know? Least I can do, since he dragged my ass out of Hell and everything."

"Michael is well. I estimate it will be another week before he wakes." The angel's face had softened a bit, but he still looked a little guarded. Completely understandable since he didn't really know her.

"Yeah, he told me that he'd be out for a while. So, I'm going to head into town and pick up a few things. Want to come with me?" His head tilted, and Emma did not find it adorable. From the way Sam told the story, Cas and Dean had a special bond thing going on that neither one had owned up to. Yet.

"You want my company?" He looked a little lost, and Emma gave up the fight. The confused angel was absolutely adorable, and Dean was an idiot. Who could resist those baby blues?

"I would love your company, Castiel." The angel's smile was barely noticeable, a small thing that could easily be overlooked, but to Emma it was something precious. "Come on, let's go shopping."

 _ **•**_ **X** _ **•**_

 **Finis:** In the original version of this story, the first scene didn't exist. It was added during the edit, because a very good friend wanted to see more of Emma and Michael. So, everyone who likes that scene, all thanks go to her!

Now, moving on! I had Emma regain her memory after reading her journal because I'm too lazy to write out amnesia. I won't lie to you wonderful readers. It also shows just how detailed Emma's journal is, that she can read it and remember her life. So it's important to remember that Sam read her entire journal too, which is why he's so comfortable around Emma. If there's any questions about anything in this chapter, please don't hesitate to ask!

 **Paigetcute:** I do feel guilty sometimes about taking the original story down since it seems like people have looked for it, but I'm hoping to make up for that by making the story better this time around. Please do! I'm always curious to know reader's opinions, and my belief is that my writing can only improve if other people tell me how. Daniel is precious, and he's going to have a much larger role in the story this time around. I am itching to write for Gabriel again! I have missed him so much, and it makes me happy to hear that someone is just as excited as I am for his return! Hopefully this will be updated again soon. Until then, thank you so much for the review!

 **silver-eyedLadyofDarkness:** Welcome back to the story! I'm happy to hear that you're reading it again, and I hope you enjoy this edited version! Thank you so much for the review!


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